The Blind Date
by Merelyn25
Summary: Fred and George set Percy up with...guess who. PO Slash. Still not OoTP compatible. FINALLY UPDATED! Complete- Last Chapter!
1. In Which Percy Receives A Present

Title: The Blind Date

Author: Merelyn25

Pairing: Percy/Oliver

Rating: G now, and I don't imagine anything over PG-13

Disclaimer: Geez, you know the drill: These characters do not belong to me. They belong to someone else. Alas. 

            Fred and George appeared in Percy's office a little before noon. They breezed in and sat down in the chairs in front of Percy's desk with a thump. "Hey, Perce," said George brightly as Percy looked up.

"What do you want?"

"Hi to you, too." George picked up a file on Percy's desk and began flipping through it. "Ooh, International Floo transportation restrictions." George's eyebrow arched.  "High-level stuff, Perce." 

"Put that down." Percy snatched the file away irritably. "Why did you come here?"

"Naturally, for the pleasure of your company," Fred replied. 

"Very funny. What is it?" Percy was already in the middle of a bad day, and the twins grating presence was just making it worse.

"Why Percy, you don't have to be so hostile. Am I wrong, or are you suggesting that George and I have come here under false pretences? That we have some ulterior motive besides wanting to spend some quality time with our favorite brother?" Fred melodramatically clutched his chest. "I am insulted. Nay, wounded. That hurts."

"Ow," George added mournfully. 

Percy raised one eyebrow. 

"Oh, all right. We just came to drop off a lunch from Mum. She's worried you're not eating enough." George produced a heaping brown paper bag. 

"Yeah. She told us…oh, what was it? Ah. I believe her exact words were, 'He can work all he likes, but there he'll never be the Minister of Magic if he starves to death first'." 

Percy smiled a little and accepted the bag, then picked up a report and began leafing through it. "I see. So you came all the way out here to drop off a lunch?"

"No. George and I volunteered to run it down." The twins shared a glance. "And we wanted to talk to you about something."

"Oh?"  Percy's eyes spared the twins a glance, and then froze on their way back to his report. _Oh no…_ The twins were smirking. Grinning, in fact. The patented, Weasley twin grin that struck fear into the hearts of mortals everywhere. The grin that was usually followed by Percy's hair turning green, or Ron's pajamas shrinking steadily over breakfast. "What is it?" Percy hesitantly asked.

"Well, Perce, my man, George here and I have decided that you need a boyfriend."

"I don't have time for a boyfriend," he replied hastily. 

Fred and George's grins reached epic proportions as Percy's face suddenly flushed. "Wait. No. That's not what I- I'm not," Percy gaped, his mind in a panic. _Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no. They know. They'll have a field day;  probably come up with a whole new set of names for me, like Percivella or Gives-Head Boy. _"I…How did…?" He sputtered. 

"Never mind that," George interrupted. "The point is, Perce, you work too much, you're completely antisocial, and if you don't do something about it, you'll end up a lonely, miserable old man."       

"Gee thanks."

"So, George and I decided to do something about it." 

There was a moment of heavy silence. _Oh sweet Merlin, no.  It just keeps getting worse. _ "What do you mean, you decided to do something about it?" 

"We mean, Percy, that you have a date this Friday." From his exuberant facial expression, Percy almost expected George to add a "Ta-da!" at the end. _A date?_

"What??" Percy's already dazed expression reached the level of pole-axed.

"You'll like him," Fred promised.

"He's tall," George said.

"The girls seem to think he's cute." Fred shrugged.

"And," George added, with another dangerous smirk, "he's about your age too."

"You're meeting him 8:00 at Waverly's restaurant."

"Do you know where that is?" George asked.  Percy remained frozen in his chair, silent, eyes wide.

"It's right off of Eloquet Alley. On Baker Street," Fred continued.

"We went there for Bill's birthday, a few years ago."

"They have really good Pasta Primavera," Fred added a moment later. They seemed to run out of steam here. 

"I…" Percy managed.

"You'll go?"

"I…" he tried again.

"Great!  We can even escort you there, just to make sure you don't forget." Fred put in. 

"I…" Percy shook his head. "Fine," he muttered. Once the twins got an idea in their heads, it was as easy to stop them as it was to stop an oncoming train by standing in front of it, raising your hand, and saying, "Halt!"  in a firm voice.

"What's his name, by the way?" He looked on suspiciously at the knowing glance the twins shared. They turned back to Percy.

"Ah. Top secret information," said Fred 

"You'll find out once you get there."  

"I…fine." Percy felt very exhausted all of a sudden.

"Well, we're going to go," George told Percy. Mission accomplished, they stood to leave. George stopped. "Hey Perce?"

"Yes?"

"Are you going to tell the rest of the family?" he asked.

Percy looked back down at his report. "Um…Yes, eventually, I guess."

"Well, whatever," George smiled. "Oi! Fred! Show him what we got."

Fred smirked again and put a folded T-shirt on Percy's desk. "Here. Got this for you." Grinning, they turned to go.

"Bye, Perce." 

"Don't forget- 8:00 on Friday." And then they left. Percy slumped back in his chair. Leave it to the twins to leap from outing him to setting him up (with Merlin knew what) in the space of five minutes. It was remarkable. 

Percy reached over and picked up the T-shirt they left for him. _What on earth? _He unfolded it. In bright rainbow writing, charmed to sparkle and change colors, the T-shirt read: 

"Let go of my ears- I know what I'm doing" 

Percy blushed and started laughing at the same time.

*~*~*~*~*

            "Come on Perce," George said. They were outside Waverly's. Percy was idling outside. He looked nice, in a Percy fashion, wearing khakis and a crisp shirt.

            "I don't really know about this." Percy fairly radiated unease.

            "You'll be fine. Here," Fred replied, and smoothed Percy's hair.

            "Wait." George fiddled with his collar.

            "And lastly…" Fred said, pulling out his wand and pointing it towards Percy's face. He murmured, "_Purgora__._" Suddenly Percy's mouth tasted cleaner.

            "Now you're minty fresh," said George.

            "Just in case," Fred added, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

            "Now go!" they both said in unison, pushing Percy towards the door. When he was gone Fred looked at his brother.

            "Oh, George. Our little guy is all grown up," Fred remarked in a tearful voice.

            George only sniffed in reply.

Percy took a deep breath and looked around the restaurant. He still hadn't found a satisfactory explanation for why he was here- the only one he'd hit on was that the twins were right- he was lonely. The idea of Fred and George being right about him was too disturbing to contemplate, though, so Percy dismissed it. He glanced at the tables, his mouth pressed into a thin, tense line. Percy Weasley was very nervous indeed. 

He wondered what his date would look like- Fred and George had been decidedly vague about the whole thing. Whenever he had pressed them about the identity of this mystery person, they had only smirked and said, "Oh, you'll know." No doubt he'd be able to identify him by his excessive nose hair or something like that. It'd be just like the twins to set him up with someone who had the grooming habits of a flubberworm. Percy stiffly made his way over to a table to wait.  

"Percy!" A voice came from his left. Percy looked over and started slightly. It was Oliver Wood, sitting in a booth near the corner. Oliver waved him over, smiling. 

"Hello Oliver." Percy returned the smile, just a little bit. Inexplicably, he felt even more nervous than before.

"Hi.  Wow, it's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes. A few years." Percy felt himself beginning to ramble. "Because I last saw you at the Quidditch World Cup, right? That was…a few years ago. Right." Percy shifted, rather uncomfortably. Percy and Oliver had never been more than casual acquaintances at school; there had always been something about the Quidditch player that made Percy feel awkward, and tonight was no different. 

"So, what are you doing here?" asked Oliver.

"Oh. I'm supposed to be meeting someone. You?"

"Date, actually."

"Really?" _Wonderful_, Percy thought. _I get to watch Oliver with some girl all through my dinner with nose-hair man_. 

"Yeah, you know your-"

"Well I should probably go, in that case." Percy was suddenly very anxious to leave. 

"Right," Oliver murmured.

Oliver stood up and held out his hand.

"Nice running into you again, Percy. It's too bad- if I didn't have this blind date thing we could have caught up some more." Oliver smiled at Percy, who hastily shook Oliver's hand and turned to leave.

He got about two feet from the table when he froze. Oliver's last sentence registered in his brain. The twins wouldn't. They couldn't have. 

*Oh, you'll know…* 

Fred and George were dead men. Dead. 

Still, maybe, hopefully, it was just an odd coincidence. Percy swallowed and slowly turned around back to face Oliver. "Um, hello again. I…this may sound rather odd, but Fred and George didn't have anything to do with your blind date, did they?"  

"Yeah, they did. I was just going to say- wait, how did you know?"

_I'm going to kill them. _

Percy sat down across from Oliver, his face overheating. He stared fixedly at the table as he said, "Hello, I'm Percy. Your date for the evening."


	2. In Which A Napkin Falls

The Blind Date- Chapter Two 

Disclaimer: Ditto for Chapter 1

Warning: By the way, here be slash. Honestly, if you don't like it, have the sense not to read it. 

A/N: I want to give a big thank you to everyone who reviewed the first chapter of this, and especially the people who gave me ideas for what's to come. Without your reviews, this part wouldn't have been here nearly as fast (yeah I know, it's been like a month), if at all. So huggles. J

Oh, and if anyone is seriously interested in buying Percy's "Let go of my ears…" shirt from chapter one (and yes I just shamelessly stole it and put it into the story), e-mail me or leave a review and I'll send you the link. I would put it here, but it won't upload properly and I am computer illiterate. 

This one isn't rainbow and sparkly, but oh well. 

As you'll doubtless recall, when we last left Percy and Oliver, Percy had just introduced himself as Oliver's date, to the shock and embarrassment of both. *Ahem* On to the fic: 

"What?" Oliver blurted out. "You're my…what?!?" Percy's face reddened some more as Oliver drew back in shock. Then he shook his head. "Sorry, I must not have heard you or something-"

"No, I'm afraid you did hear me." Percy sighed. "I'm, well…yourdatefortheevening" Percy endeavored to get last bit over with as quickly as possible. "You see Fred and George obviously thought it would be a laugh if…And now...well…" 

"But you couldn't be- I mean you aren't even gay…are you?" Oliver looked enormously confused.

"Well…yesIam."  Again, Percy said the last part so fast that Oliver almost didn't catch it. Percy darted a quick glance at Oliver and went back to staring at the table. "I had no idea you were…too." 

"Yeah, I am." Oliver shrugged.  

"Oh." Percy looked up as he reached for his paper napkin and unconsciously began folding and unfolding it.

"Yeah."  In the silence that followed, Oliver watched Percy and his napkin; he shook his head in bewilderment.

"What is it?" 

"Oh, I just can't believe Fred and George set me up with _you_." 

Percy's eyebrows shot up; his face took on a huffy expression. "Well, I know I'm probably not what you were expecting, but you- look, this was a really bad idea, so why don't I just go," Percy slid over to leave.

"No! Wait, that came out wrong. It's just that when the twins told me about this, they said that he- well, you- were going to be tall, dark and handsome or something like that, so I didn't think it was going to be anyone like you." Percy opened his mouth and Oliver winced. "No! That's not what I meant either- you're not ugly or anything-Merlin- it's just I was-" Oliver stopped and sighed, dropping his head to his hands. "I didn't mean it like that," he finally said. "God, this is embarrassing."

 "I know just how you feel," Percy said, exchanging a rather dry smile with Oliver. During the silence that followed Percy folded and unfolded the napkin in his lap three times. 

"I…" Oliver started, but he couldn't think of a thing to say.

"Hmm? Did you say something?" Percy paused in his folding.

"Um…No."

"Oh." By the time another minute rolled around, the silence had grown to unbearable proportions; Percy had moved on from folding to full-on nervous twisting of his napkin. 

 Suddenly Oliver smiled sheepishly. "You know, I think I'm going to murder your brothers the next time I see them." He glanced over at Percy, who was, for some reason, looking at the other side of the room out of the corner of his eye. 

"Well you won't have to wait too long. If I'm not mistaken, that's them hiding behind the menu in the corner booth." Percy inclined his head, and sure enough, he was right. Oliver looked over just in time to see a pair of orange heads duck back out of sight.

"Maybe I'll just get out waiter to spit in their food then." He smiled. "I should have known something was up- I mean the two of them were grinning like a pair of Cheshire cats the whole time."

 "For me too," Percy replied. After a moment, his brow crinkled. Percy looked down at his water glass. "I wonder why they ever thought that-"

"I don't know." Oliver also looked down at his water glass. Fred and George looked at them looking down at their water glasses.

Percy was back to twisting when the waiter came to take their order.

*~*~*~*

            Meanwhile, in the corner booth, Fred and George were still trying to look inconspicuous behind the menu. 

            "This is awful!" George said, leaning his head over to the side to get a better look.

            "I know. Merlin, what more do we have to do?"

            George craned his head further around the menu. Suddenly his eyes widened and he thumped back into his seat, blinking. Fred moved the menu over in alarm.

            "What are you doing??" he whispered. "They'll see us!"

            "Fred."

            "George, get over here. You're going to ruin the whole thing! They'll never get anywhere if they know someone is watching them!"

            "Fred."

            "George-"

            'Fred!" George grabbed the menu and slammed it down on the table. "Oh, give up. It was a stupid idea. Besides, I think they already saw us."

            "What makes you think that?"

            "Because Percy just looked over at me and mouthed 'I'm going to kill you'."

            "Oh." Fred leaned back in his seat. "Well then."

            "Let's just try and act normal, shall we?"

            "Very well."

            "So!" Fred and George started. "You gentlemen have come out of hiding, have you? You ought to know what you want by now, being so involved in the menu and all." Their waitress, a slightly overweight girl with frizzy brown hair and a nametag that read "Hi! My name is 'Piss Off'" raised an eyebrow. George supposed that the slight twitch of the frown engrained in her faced passed for a friendly smile.

            "Um…"

            "Actually, we don't know what we want yet."

            "Really?" Piss Off's eyes widened in mock surprise. Or would have, if she'd felt like making the effort.

            "Yes, so could you, um, come back in a bit?" George chuckled weakly by way of explanation.

            "I'd be delighted." Piss Off's words were so heavy with sarcasm they practically dropped like bowling balls onto the table. She turned and plodded back over toward the kitchen. 

"Ray of sunshine, that one," George commented.

Fred's eyes followed her until she passed the desert cart, where they stopped.  His face suddenly lit up in a grin; he whirled back to his brother.

            "George."

"What?"

"I have a brilliant idea." 

            "What is it?" George's grin now matched his twin's.

            Fred turned back toward the kitchen, where Piss Off was still standing. "Oi! Piss Off!" She came over to their table, with exactly the same expression as before on her face.

            "Could you do us a favor? You see that table over there? The one with the guy with that fake smile and the other who looks like he has a poker wedged up his arse?…"

*~*~*~*

            Back at Oliver and Percy's table a valiant attempt at conversation was going on. 

            Oliver was in the midst of an amusing anecdote: "…So then Liz told him the truth about the whole thing and he said, "What? You mean I spent 500 sickles on this magic-toupee and it was all a prank?'" His laughter sputtered out like a dying lawn mower. "Well. I guess it was one of those 'you had to be there' kind of things," he muttered.

"Right." Percy smiled weakly.

Oliver was trying to relax- the whole situation was actually kind of funny, he thought- but Percy wasn't making it easy. He was still quite tense, his back rigidly straight against the booth. After destroying his own dinner napkin, Percy had absently found Oliver's and was slowly mangling it to death. It was almost adorable, Oliver thought. Still, what an evening. Oliver had tried to get a conversation going several times, but he kept running into brick walls. Well, here goes another, he thought.

"…so, Fred and George, eh?"

            "Uh-huh."

            "They still over there?"

            "Yes."

            "That's what I thought." And brick wall. Oliver twiddled his thumbs.

            Percy watched him and stifled a sigh. Why was this going so badly? His mouth seemed to be frozen. This napkin was no longer fit for use. And to top it off, the table definitely did not look as though it had been cleaned before they sat down. He should know, considering he had been staring at it for most of the past ten minutes.

Oliver took a sip of water, thinking. Surely this couldn't sustain itself for much longer- Percy was liable to give himself muscle strain in he didn't loosen up. Oliver put down the water glass and broke the silence. 

"What a crazy idea," he said.

"Pardon?"

"I mean, you know, the idea of us dating." He gestured vaguely back and forth between them.

"Oh…yes, of course." Percy shook his head a little too vigorously in agreement.

"It's just…silly."

"I know."

"Ridiculous."

"Yes."

"You could even call it crackers." 

"You could, at that." Percy paused. "I mean, we were…friends, right? And we haven't even seen each other in over a year."

"Silly idea." That sounded like a good thing to say again. 

"Yes. We have definitely established that as a silly, silly idea," Percy trailed off quietly.

"So, you know, maybe we should try just being friends or something," Oliver suggested.

            "Certainly," Percy said with relief, his shoulders finally inching away from his head. Percy's hands slowly released the ruined napkin. 

            "Yeah- no pressure. I mean it would be too weird and-"

            Oliver would have finished his sentenced but the entire wait-staff of Waverly's restaurant interrupted him. A sea of perky faces (save one) stared expectantly down at them.

            "Yes?" Percy asked.

            "Ladies and gentleman, it's a very special night for these two," announced a frizzy haired waitress with heavy eyelids and a loud, if monotone voice. "Oliver and Percy here are celebrating their two-year anniversary tonight! Congratulations!" 

 The waiters and waitresses pulled out their wands and began shooting colored sparks from them. One spelled out 'Happy Anniversary!' in large gold letters over their table.

            "What?" Percy yelped.

            "Happy anniversary, happy anniversary- happy anniversary, to you, to you!" the wait-staff sang, one girl with light brown hair doing her best to sing as loudly and as off-key as possible.

Percy seemed as though we was trying to tense up and shrink down into his seat at the same time. Oliver's napkin returned to his hands and his face was doing a credible impression of a tomato. All in all, Percy had never been more embarrassed in his entire life.

 Oliver shot a worried look at him and grabbed the frizzy haired woman, pulling her towards him. 

            "You've made a mistake. It's not our anniversary!" he shouted over the song. "We aren't even dating!" 

            Piss Off just shook her head, an evil glint in her eye. "Those two gentlemen in the corner told me you'd be shy about it." She jerked her thumb behind her towards the corner booth and smiled sadistically to herself. Oliver looked murderously over, but the only thing left at Fred and George's table was a single menu. 

Wait. The song seemed to be dying down.

            The wait-staff took a collective breath. "Happy anniversary, happy anniversary…" Or not. 

It went on forever; Percy felt as though everyone in the restaurant was staring at them- and they were. The napkin was a mangled paper carcass by the time the song ended and the audience burst into enthusiastic applause.  He shot a glance in almost hysterical askance at Oliver. 

            "Just play along. It'll be over in a minute."

            Just then a large chocolate cake came wheeling out of the kitchen. 

            "Merlin," Oliver whispered. It was too much. The cake had "Happy Two Years- Love Fred and George" scrawled across it. 

Percy gulped. He reached instinctively across the table in search of yet another napkin, but his hand found Oliver's instead. He looked down at it, surprised, then met Oliver's eyes. Oliver was actually on the verge of laughing, his eyes twinkling. And although he snatched his hand away as quickly as possible, Percy couldn't help the answering tug of his own mouth in return. 

A/N: Well that it for the second chapter. Sorry the ending is so abrupt and cutesy. 

I promise I'll try and update more quickly next time. 

Oh, and I'm still welcoming suggestions for what comes next. 

Please? 


	3. In Which Percy and Oliver Have Coffee

**The Blind Date- Chapter 3**

Disclaimers, Warnings, etc: See Chapter One

A/N: Okay I'm really really really sorry it's been so long since I updated this. But I think I've got a better idea about what I want to do with this, so hopefully the next update will be much sooner. And hugs to all of my reviewers- I really appreciate it. 

****This fic is now, as I saw one person put it, not OoTP compatible. So, if you have read OoTP, it never happened as far as this fic is concerned. If you haven't read OoTP, then it's all good.  (Not bitter, not bitter…)****

            The door of Waverly's closed behind them as Percy and Oliver stepped into evening air. Neither of them knew quite what to say. Oliver turned to look at Percy, who was blinking dazedly and shaking his head ever so slightly back and forth. A moment later Percy turned to catch Oliver's eye. They didn't speak for a moment. Suddenly Oliver burst out laughing. Percy grinned and ran his hand awkwardly through his hair.

            "Well that was rather awful, wasn't it?" Percy ventured.

            Oliver chuckled. "I think my favorite part was when the girl at the piano dedicated that lovely rendition of 'I Will Always Love You' to us."

            Percy shuddered. "My eardrums will never be the same."

            "But Percy, it _is_ our song, after all." Oliver grinned.

            "Damn Fred and George for telling them that."

            "Oh, I don't know, I thought she did a rather good job- 'and IIIIIIIIII-ee-IIII…" Oliver's voice carried loudly, sounding, if possible, even worse than the piano girl from the restaurant. "…Will always luuuvvv youu…" 

            "Oliver!" Percy hissed at him, looking around with a scandalized expression.

            "What?" Oliver turned to him, a hand still pressed dramatically to his heart.

            "I-" Percy stopped. "I think you might've had one too many butterbeers," he finished primly.

            "And you, my friend, have not had enough." They were walking now, down the street.

            "I don't like drinking," said Percy.

            "I remember." A comfortable silence settled as they strolled along.

            A sudden thought occurred to Percy. He stopped. "So we really are…friends, then?" he asked hesitantly, glancing toward Oliver and then to his feet. "I mean, you just said-"

            "After surviving an evening like that? Yeah, I'd say so."

            "Okay then." Percy said. He looked up from his shoes and Oliver caught an almost-controlled expression of _something_- relief?-in his eyes. Hmm. They stood watching each other for a moment, before Percy broke away.  "Well, I suppose I ought to be going- I mean I do have a lot to do tomorrow, you know. Reports. What have you. Um…right." Percy pulled out his wand as though to apparate.  

            "Wait!" 

            Percy froze, his chest tightening.

            "Besides the fact that tomorrow's Saturday and I know you don't have to go into work," Oliver said with a knowing smile (Percy blushed), "I've heard of this great new coffee shop that just opened in Diagon Alley near Flourish and Blotts. I've been meaning to go for a while."

            "Oh?"

            "So maybe we could get together there sometime- really catch up, without the distraction of, you know, celebrating our anniversary." 

            "Oh. Yes. Certainly." Percy nodded.

            "How about Monday? Around 12:00?"

            "I think I'm free then."

            "Right." 

            Silence. Percy seemed to be searching for something to say.

            "Well. Good evening then, Oliver." 

            Percy stuck out his hand as though he was concluding a business meeting. 

            "Oh- goodnight, Percy." The corner of Oliver's mouth twitched as he shook Percy's hand.  

            And with that, they both apparated away.

*~*~*~*

            Percy appeared in the main room of his small flat an instant later. He stared thoughtfully at his surroundings for a moment before setting his wand down in its place on the coffee table.

            Percy loved his flat.

            He loved the muted beige paint on the walls. He loved the slightly shabby, but tasteful furniture that he had bought himself. He loved the fact that he lived in a place that was entirely his own.  And if it was almost appallingly quiet sometimes, at least his flat was free from the dirty clothes and random explosions that were so common at the Burrow.  He liked the solitude.

            "So!"

            Percy jumped. He spun around.

            "My, my, Percy, home at 10:30 on a Friday. Isn't it past your bedtime?"

            "What are you two doing here?" Percy glared at Fred and George. "And how the devil did you get in?"

            Fred and George made their way past Percy into the kitchenette instead of answering him. 

            "You have any food around here?" George began rifling through his carefully arranged cabinets while Fred turned and stretched himself out on the sofa.

            "I- stop that! In fact, you both can leave right now!"

            "Ooh, Fig Newtons." George, foraging completed, went over to the sofa. He elbowed Fred over, put his feet up on the coffee table, and shoved three cookies in his mouth at once. 

            "Oh, don't be in such a snit, Perce. Didn't your date go well?" Fred's questioning glance was far too innocent to be believed. 

            "Oh, shut up. You know perfectly well what happened." 

            George finished chewing and swallowed heavily. "Actually we missed what happened after the cake-"

            "Ah, the cake."  

            "One of your more brilliant ideas, Fred, if I do say so myself." 

            "You may." Fred inclined his head graciously toward his brother. 

            "I'm going to throttle the pair of you." Percy's voice was calmly murderous.

            "Oh you wouldn't do that to your favorite brothers, now would you?"

            "Really Percy, that's not very nice."

            "Yes, you know how sensitive George is."

            "And after all the work we did to make his date go well."

            "By the way, _did_ it go well?" As Fred and George stared at Percy expectantly, their brother began to look less murderous and more uncomfortable. "Well, how did it go?" Fred prompted. George devoured another three Fig Newtons in one go, still staring.

            "Um…"

            " It went 'um'. You know, Percy, sometimes I forget the sheer power of you eloquence. 'Um.' Very impressive."

            "Aww, Fred, look!" George said, spitting a few crumbs out as he talked. "He's blushing! Isn't that sweet?"

            "It went fine!" Percy blurted out finally.

            Fred and George shared a grin.

            "Really?" 

            "How far did you get?"

            "I bet that mint stuff came in handy didn't it, Perce?"

            "Hey hey!" Fred elbowed George.

            "No- that's not what I- look, we're just friends."

            "What?" Fred looked disappointed for just an instant.

            "We're just friends," Percy repeated slowly. He couldn't quite bring himself to meet their eyes as he said it. 

            George looked at Percy skeptically. "Sure, Perce. And that's why you're blushing even more."

            "I'm not- you're getting crumbs on the couch," Percy snapped.

            "Fine, big brother, don't tell us." Fred stood up and raised his hands in mock defeat. 

            "If that's how you want to be." George stood up too. "Only remember- we have ways of finding out the truth." There was something in George's truly wicked smile_ that made Percy's stomach drop with an ominous, cold feeling. Oh no._

            "Wait. Wait- what are you going to-"

            But they had already disappeared.

*~*~*~*

On 12:10 on a Monday, Grizzelda's Muggle Coffee Shop seemed to be entirely populated by wizards and witches in professional robes. Percy, for his part, blended in perfectly (though he did look a little more uptight than most). Oliver, for his, had not arrived. 

Grizzelda's had opened a few weeks ago to booming business. The entire operation was based on the novelty of a wizard coffee shop run entirely the Muggle way- with Muggle drinks, Muggle furniture, even a Muggle telephone. The coffee and pastries were prepared without any magic at all. Percy had heard all about it from his father, of course, who had been in 10 times the opening week. 

"Sorry I'm late, Percy!" A blur or blue and gold robes landed in the seat opposite Percy with a thunk. "I had an early morning practice session- it ran a little longer than I thought it would. Didn't even have time to change." Oliver took a deep breath and settled into his chair. "Have you been waiting long?"

"Oh, no, not really."

"Hmm. I bet it's been ten minutes."

"How did you know?"

"Because it's 12:10 now, and for some reason you strike me as a punctual sort."

"Really. Whatever gave you that idea?" Percy asked dryly. Oliver quirked a smile at him. 

"I don't know. Intuition. Or maybe it was the fact that I roomed with you for seven years, every day of which you woke up precisely at 7:00 a.m."

"Oh." Percy didn't know what to say to that, so he settled for looking around the coffee shop. He caught a flash of red hair in the corner by the window and tensed.

It couldn't be.

Not again.

The person turned.

"Thank Merlin," Percy whispered with a sigh.

The red hair belonged to a forty year old man whom Percy had never seen before, with a perfectly benign (as opposed to evil) expression on his face. 

 "What are you looking at?"

"Oh- I just can't shake the suspicion that Fred and George might be lurking around here." 

"Your brothers are definitely a piece of work."

"Don't I know it." 

"I bet you told them off properly for Friday."

"I attempted to but they got away before I had the chance." Percy looked decidedly disgruntled at this.

Oliver chuckled suddenly. "Remember back in sixth year when they turned Filch's office into an aquarium when he was sick and charged people to go swimming in it? You must have been blue in the face when you finished yelling at them."

"Well, it was a ghastly thing to do. Mrs. Norris was never the same again." Oliver looked thoughtfully at the expression on Percy's face.

"You know, I have a sneaking suspicion that- underneath your upstanding exterior- you actually thought that it was funny." Oliver leaned forward across the table.

"Hardly."

"Not even a little?"

"No!"

"Really?"

"Yes, really! As a prefect it was-"

"You're smiling, Percy," 

"I am not." But he was.

*~*~*~*

About an hour later Percy and Oliver had gone through two cups of Muggle coffee each.  

"…lately the smuggling from the Floo network has reached an all time high. Highest in fifty years, actually. We're getting flying carpets and other enchanted Muggle objects flooding the black market from the International Floo Network, not to mention the dark art products…" 

All Oliver had asked was, "How's work going?" and Percy had taken off. He was now talking animatedly about his latest project, eyes lit up, hands gesturing excitedly.

"So my department is working on tightening trade restrictions and developing and implementing a better monitoring system on the network. That- Oh. I've been running on, haven't I?" Percy said with a sheepish smile.****

"No. No- that's really interesting," said Oliver. And for some reason, coming from Percy of all people, it actually was. "I never realized that it was such a big problem."   

"Yeah, well not doing anything about it just creates more problems for the Ministry, especially Dad's department."

"I see. Well it sounds like you're working really hard."

Percy shrugged. "Not really."

"Why do I get the feeling that 'Not really' means you've been pulling 10 hour days?" Oliver said in mock puzzlement.  

"I haven't been working 10 hours a day. At least not everyday."  Percy took a sip of his coffee. "Sometimes it's more," he muttered into his cup, avoiding Oliver's amused glare.

"Percy, when was the last time you had a holiday?" 

"Erm." Oliver had a feeling 'erm' meant "since never'.

"You know what? You need a day- just one day- when you don't have to think about work or anything and just enjoy yourself."

"I do?" Judging by Percy's expression, the concept seemed almost foreign to him.

"Yeah. Are you doing anything this Saturday?"

To Oliver's surprise, Percy pulled out a leather date book from his robes and flipped to Saturday. "Ah. Well, I'd planned on reorganizing my files, actually."

Oliver put on an I-cant-believe-I'm-being-blown-off-for-file-folders expression.  

Percy sighed.  "But, I suppose I could move that to…Tuesday maybe?" He pulled put a quill and was soon engrossed fixing his schedule. 

"Well then, you and I are going to spend all day Saturday doing fun stuff." Oliver said with an excited smile.

"Are we?"  Percy said, glancing up from his date book. "Hold on a second. Now if I move that there, I'll have to do the preliminary research…" After a few moments of this, Percy finished, closing his date book with a satisfied nod. "There."

"Great! It'll be a crack. I promise." Oliver grinned. He knew just the thing to help Percy loosen up a bit.****

"Well, I don't know…" Percy now looked slightly suspicious. 

"Come on, anyone can see you're overworked. You need to relax."

            "What exactly do you have in mind, anyway?" 

            "It's a surprise. Besides, you can't back out now, you already re-arranged your schedule for it." That had him. Percy frowned at his date book.

"Oh, all right," Percy sighed.  "I don't know why I let-." 

"Just send me an owl with directions to your flat sometime this week."

"Okay."

"Oh, do you have the time? I have an afternoon training session at two." Percy looked down at his wristwatch. His eyes widened in horror.

"Oh no!"****

"What is it?"

"I should have been back from my lunch break fifteen minutes ago! I completely lost track of the time. Oh dear, they're going to sack me or something." Oliver would have laughed but he could see that Percy was genuinely dismayed. Percy stood up and reached for his wand. "I've got to go, but I'll send you that owl later. Goodbye, Oliver."

"Bye Percy."

*~*~*~*

And somewhere, just a few crooked blocks down the street from Grizzelda's, in Number 93 Diagon Alley, a joke shop with bright, garish paint and a sign on the electric blue door that said "Closed- back in 15 minutes", in the back room, by the box of canary creams, Fred and George Weasley got an idea. Fred and George got a wonderful, awful idea.  


	4. In Which Percy and Oliver Do Fun Things

The Blind Date- Chapter 4

Disclaimers: See Chapter 1

A/N: Well here it is. Chapter 4. I hope it meets expectations. Sorry it's so friggin' long. I guess it got a little away from me. Thanks to all of my reviewers. It's what keeps me going. Oh and a big thank you to Meg, Molly and Lini, for helping me through the multiple incarnations of this thing. 

            At 6:00 a.m. that morning Oliver had appeared at the door of his flat, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of black Muggle track pants. 

            "Hullo!" Oliver had said brightly.

            "Um…good morning, Oliver." Percy, still in his pajamas and robe, blinked at him quizzically. "I know I agreed to do 'fun things' with you today, but I haven't even finished breakfast. What _are you wearing?" _

            "Come on, I thought we'd go for an early morning run." This said with a level of enthusiasm far too high for something so evil. The man practically bounced up and down.

            "Pardon?" That was when Percy began to wonder just what he had gotten himself into.

            "You know, running? Kind of like walking only faster? Surely you've heard of it." This followed by a coaxing smile. 

            "But you said were going to do fun things today. Fun things. Not- not running."

            "But Percy…"

            "Look, I hate running- no. No. There is no way- no way- I am going to-" For some reason, Percy's articulate reasoning did nothing to affect the hopeful, come-on-you-know-you-want-to expression on Oliver's face, complete with earnest brown eyes and a slightly quirked smile. Oh don't look at me like that, Percy thought. You know it's not fair. Not fair, but working, he grumbled internally. "I- I don't have anything to wear," Percy had said anyway.

            "I was prepared for that. You can borrow some of my stuff.  Here." Then Oliver shoved a crumpled-up pile of clothes at him. Percy stared at them suspiciously.

            "Are these clean?"

            "Geez, Percy, just go. It will be fun."

            "But- I…"

            Then Oliver smiled at him again.

            And somehow, despite all his efforts to the contrary, Percy now found himself puffing through Fignut Park at 6:30 on a Saturday when he could have been enjoying a cup of coffee and the morning paper, or, better yet, reorganizing his file folders.

"Oliver…" Percy gasped.  "How…on earth…did you get me…to agree…to this?" 

            "It's good for you," Oliver replied, increasing his pace. "When was the last time you worked out anyway?" 

            "I don't… remember," he wheezed out, trailing behind Oliver. It was impossible to remember anything when he felt as though he was going to fall over, hit the pavement and die any second now. 

            "Isn't the park beautiful at this time of day?" Oliver looked around the landscape with a reverent smile. "There are barely any people…"

            Because only you are barking mad enough to go running- running!- at this hour, Percy thought. He was beginning to feel heart pounding in his ears- surely that wasn't healthy? He plodded weakly behind Oliver, who, complete prat that he was, had barely broken a sweat. 

Oliver, who looked really good in those pants.

Percy nearly tripped as the thought registered. Well. Obviously, all the exercise must be affecting his mind. 

            "It's so peaceful. Just us and the birds, Percy, us and the birds."  As Oliver continued to wax eloquent on the glories of an early morning run, Percy tried to keep up, focusing firmly on nothing but keeping his legs moving. He wasn't going to let the running beat him. No. He wasn't. 

But Percy could feel his face turning bright red, and he _hated_ that- still, he wasn't. 

But he was sweating, and he hated that even more- but no. No. Keep going. And don't look at Oliver.

But his legs were going to collapse. And his side was screaming in pain. And he couldn't breathe. Oh, screw it. This was too much. 

"Oliver. Wait…have...to stop. Am dying." Percy panted, slowing down and stumbling over to grab weakly for a lamppost on the side of the path. He paused there, breathing heavily, resting his forehead on the cool metal surface. 

Oliver didn't notice. "Isn't this nice, Percy?" he asked cheerfully as he ran ahead. "I told you this would be fun…Percy?"

*~*~*~*

"I hate you."

"Oh, it wasn't that bad," Oliver said from the floor.  He was stretching. 

Percy didn't reply- his death glare said more than enough. 

Percy was now stretched out on his sofa, immobile- still in Oliver's exercise clothes, still beet red, and nursing glass of water. His hair was mussed. Percy would have fixed it, but his arm felt as though it was made of lead. Suddenly Oliver's head began popping up into Percy's peripheral vision. Up. Down. 

The man was doing sit ups. Bloody sit ups. 

 "You should be proud of yourself-" Up. "You jogged a whole mile." Down.

Percy took a sip of water, then resumed glaring. 

People who were still able to move like that after practically running a marathon should really just die collectively. 

"Once you get into it-" Up. "Running is actually very energizing." Down. Bastard. "Next time-" 

"Oliver?" The head poked up again.

"Yes?"

"Shut up."

Oliver continued in silence. 

*~*~*~*

"Where on earth are we?" Percy looked around at the crowds of kids and teenagers and strange, noisy, Muggle machines.

"Zip's Arcade," Oliver said.

"Zip's what?" Percy frowned and picked at his shirt. The Muggle clothes Oliver had lent him didn't quite fit. 

"Arcade. It's a place that has video games and things like that."

"What games?"

Oliver sighed. "They're just Muggle games, only they're played on a screen with controls and…" From the expression on Percy's face, he clearly didn't get it. 

"Here, I'll show you." Oliver steered Percy over to one of the large screen box things. 

"Super Karate Doom 3?" Percy frowned. 

"You try it." Oliver put a token in and stepped aside. "See you're the guy on the right, and you're fighting the guy in the blue on the left. The controls move you around and the buttons make you do stuff."

"Ah." Percy poked the joystick hesitantly. His person moved forward. "Hey!" Percy jumped. "That guy kicked me!" He said to Oliver, pointing at the machine.

"Yeah, he's supposed to."

"But I didn't do anything to him." Percy was looking disgruntled again. 

"The whole point of the game is that-"

"But why would he do that? Wait- he did it again! Oh, and he threw me to the ground!"  Percy looked so put out as he played that Oliver nearly burst out laughing. Only Percy would take a video game so personally.

After Percy had gotten his virtual** arse kicked, he shook his head disapprovingly at the character in blue. "Have you considered therapy for your anger management issues?" Percy asked him, frowning.  **

People were starting to look at them strangely, Oliver noticed.

"Let's try something simpler," Oliver said, jerking Percy away from the game. Oliver wove through the arcade, Percy following. "My grandmother came from a Muggle family," Oliver said over his shoulder. "I used to visit her every summer when I was little and she would always take me here. She was a bit of a legend among the kids- beat practically every game in the place at the age of 70." Oliver shook his head fondly. "Her favorite game, though, was this one." Oliver stopped in front of a line skeeball games. 

"Skeeball?" Percy smiled, raising an eyebrow at the sign flashing above the game.

"Yeah. The rules are pretty easy. You put a token in and these balls come down." Oliver demonstrated. "Then you just roll the balls up this ramp and it'll land in one of the rings. The closer to the center and the more points you get." Oliver played through one game. 

"I see." Percy considered this. "Wouldn't it be easier just the levitate the balls all into the center hole?"

"Percy, that's not the point." Oliver muttered something Percy didn't quite catch. It sounded almost like "What am I going to do with you?"

"Ah."

"Why do I get the feeling you're being deliberately obtuse?"

"I don't know." Percy blinked innocently. 

"Anyway, why don't we both play and see who gets a higher score? Now don't worry if you don't do to well the first time."

"I won't," said Percy.

"Besides, I may not be on the level of my Gram, but I am pretty good at this if I do say so myself." Oliver shot Percy a cocky grin. 

"Really?" 

"Yep." Oliver stretched as if to demonstrate this.

Percy sent a sidelong glance at his friend. "Would you…care to make it interesting?"

"Why Percival Weasley, I am shocked and appalled. No, I'm afraid I couldn't possibly be party to the corruption of such an ethical, upstanding person like yourself. Your mum would never forgive me if I-"

"Winner gets to pick what we do next."

"Deal." 

They shook on it. Oliver looked far too smug for his own good. 

Oliver turned back to the skeeball machine. "Are you sure? Because you know what's going to happen when I win," he said with an evil smile. 

"Hmph. We'll see about that." Percy turned to his machine. "So what do I do again?"

"Here. You go first." Oliver put a token in and handed Percy a ball. Percy stepped up to the ramp. He moved to the left. Then to the right. He squinted. His tongue peeked out of the corner of his mouth as he concentrated, moving his arm back and forth.

"Percy!" 

"What? I'm getting into position." 

Oliver smiled to himself. He could almost smell victory on the wind. "Oh, Percy, you and I are going to have such a good time at…" Oliver's nearly choked in shock.  

Percy had thrown his first ball. It rolled up the ramp and landed neatly in the center circle. "Oh. That's 50 points, right?" 

Oliver blinked. "How did you do that?"

Percy shrugged casually.

Oliver threw his ball, and only got 30 points. He coughed. There was nothing to be alarmed about. Just a fluke, clearly.

Percy turned to Oliver, clearly puzzled. "Now, I'm still a little confused. I did just do better than you than you, right, or am I missing something?"

"Percy, shut up."

"Just checking."  If he hadn't known better, Oliver would almost call Percy's grin cheeky. 

"Beginner's luck, my friend. Just wait, we'll see who wins in the end."

Oliver lost. 

"I want a rematch." Obviously, he was just a little rusty. 

Oliver lost the second time. Worse than before.

By the third time, he was starting to get a little suspicious.

And by the fourth one, he knew something was fishy.

"You've played this before, Percy, haven't you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Percy's face was practically angelic. In fact, it reminded Oliver of Fred and George.

"You have! I can tell!" Oliver gaped at him.

"I- oh, all right. When I was about 12, Dad brought home a few things his department had picked up on a raid. Some random bloke had enchanted a few Muggle games, pinball I think, and um, this one. So mum let him keep it as long as he took all the spells off it. It's still in the garage where his flying car, er, was." 

Oliver huffed. "I can't believe it. 'So how do you play, Oliver?'" he mimicked, making a face. "You devious bastard." Percy was just full of surprises.

"Oliver?"

"What?"

 "Since I won, do you know what this means?" Percy smile widened at Oliver's expression. 

"You get revenge on me for making you run?" he answered bitterly.

*~*~*~*

"…In 1799 scholar Vertius Bosworth finally succeeded in translating the runes on the bottom of the cauldron, producing a remarkable, indeed startling discovery: the cauldron is not from the Nerian period as originally supposed, but- from the pre-Nerian period."

"Ooh," said Percy, with rapt attention on the lecturer, who flicked his wand slowly to replace the image of the pre-Nerian cauldron with that of…yet another cauldron. 

Oliver rolled his eyes. The most disturbing thing about the whole business was not the fact that some poor bloke had actually conceived of an hour-long lecture on "Nerian Cauldrons from the Mediterranean", but that there were still 45 minutes of said lecture left.  

 All he had done was try to give Percy one day of fun. Was it his fault that Percy didn't think that morning jogs were fun? Okay, so perhaps he should have known better, but still- this. This. This was cruel and unusual. Who knew Percy had such a twisted mind? 

"It's only fair," Percy had said that evening. 

"Fair! Fair doesn't include tricking people into losing bets," Oliver had responded- petulantly, because he knew Percy was right.

"But it will be very informative, I promise." Percy said that like it was a good thing. 

"Great. Informative. You know, I wasn't convinced before, but you just sold me with that one."

"Well you needn't be so tetchy." Percy had stiffened and began to look downcast, in that horrible way that made Oliver feel liked he had kicked a puppy. "You don't have to go if you don't want to. It'll probably be boring for you anyway-"

"Of course I'm going," Oliver sighed. "And I think attending a lecture on Nerphibean-"

"Nerian."

"Whatever. But still, attending a lecture onrotting old cauldrons gives me the right to be a little techty."

"Great! Very few people realize how much ancient cauldron styles can tell us about classic civilizations. I didn't, myself, until-"

"Percy?"

"What?"

"I…oh, nevermind."

And now he was listening to a lecture on cauldrons, which was all Percy's fault, and the damned uncomfortable chair in the lecture room was making his back spasm, which was somehow Percy's fault too. And the only good part about the whole thing was Percy's expression as he listened to the lecture, eyes shining, sitting straight up in his chair, lower lip bitten. How anyone could manage to look not only interested but completely endearing during a lecture on glorified pots was-

Oliver cleared his throat. He shifted in his seat and tried to figure out how in the world he could have possibly lost at skeeball. It didn't make sense. 

Then the random old bloke, whose voice reminded Oliver of the dull throb of a muted jackhammer, began talking about the fifth cauldron of the evening. 

_Sweet Merlin.__ Save me._

*~*~*~*

Oliver awoke 20 minutes later to find 5 pairs of eyes staring at him- the random old bloke's, Percy's, and the other three people who were attending the lecture voluntarily (obviously nutters). They were all gazing at him with different degrees of irritation. He felt just as though he was back at Hogwarts and had been caught sleeping in class. 

"Heh." Oliver straightened and tried very hard to look as though he'd been paying attention. 

No one spoke. 

"So, Nerphibeous cauldrons, eh?"

Evidently not the right thing to say.

The old bloke sputtered indignantly. A brown-haired woman in the front row looked down her nose at Oliver before turning around as though, on second thought, he wasn't even worth looking at.  Oliver turned to Percy, expecting a similar reaction.

But he didn't find it. Instead Oliver was pleased to see Percy's rather familiar I-am-trying-to-disapprove-but-I-actually-think-this-is-funny expression. After a moment, the old bloke began droning again. 

Percy shook his head and turned to the front, trying to control his smile. The lecture continued.

"You were snoring," Percy admonished in a whisper.

"Pfft. I don't snore," Oliver said.

"Very loudly." Percy mouth twitched again. 

"I don't snore." Lies, clearly.

"Yes you do."

"Don't."

"Oliver, I roomed with you for seven years. I had History of Magic with you. Believe me, you snore."

"No."

"Why don't you ask the lecturer? He heard you."

"His opinion would undoubtedly be biased. I kind of get the feeling he doesn't like me." 

"You-."

"Gentlemen." Oliver turned back to the front, where the random old bloke was looking peeved again. 

"If you wouldn't mind, gentlemen?" the pompous old goat asked, voice dripping condescension. "I would like to continue in peace." He gestured pointedly toward the exit. Percy turned scarlet.

Oliver stood up. "Thank you, sir, for a most enjoyable evening," he said with a flourish. "I haven't had such a refreshing sleep in weeks." He pulled Percy out the door.

*~*~*~*

They had no sooner left the lecture hall of the Alfred. P. Norland Magical History Museum and out on the stairs when Percy stopped in a huff. "I can't believe you just got us thrown out!"

"_I did? Hey, you were the one who said I snored. I had to defend myself."_

Percy sighed. "Do you realize that Mr. Lewis-"

"Oh, is that his name? He looks more like a Mr. I'm-such-a-yawn-I-even-put-myself-to-sleep."

"Oliver, He is the world's foremost authority on Mediterranean archaeology! He's-"

"Got a stick up his arse?"

"No! He-" 

"Hey! Oliver!" The pair quieted as a petite blonde girl came running up the steps. "What are you doing here?" she asked bluntly.

"Hi, Ellen. And what do you mean, what am I doing here?" Oliver looked offended. "What are _you doing here?" he muttered._

"I have a date with Allen" she said. She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, where a man in a black coat waited.  "Who are you?" she asked Percy.

"Percy Weasley. Nice to meet you." Percy offered his hand.

"Likewise. Ellen Fitzgerald." Ellen shook it.

"Percy, Ellen is Puddlemere's seeker."

"That's me. So, Oliver, what brings you to the Museum of Magical History?"

"He was attending a lecture on Nerian cauldrons of the Mediterranean with me," said Percy. 

"Was he?" Ellen raised an eyebrow. From the look she shot him, Oliver got the feeling he was going to be teased mercilessly about this later.

"Yes. That is, until we got kicked out." Percy shot a dirty look at Oliver. "He fell asleep."

"I prefer to think of it as a piece of constructive criticism on the lecture."

Percy snorted. "Well you didn't have to snore, at any rate." 

"Percy, I think you might want to get your hearing checked- it must be going in your old age, as I don't snore."

"And your mind's going- you're delusional."

"That's really funny," Ellen smiled, "but-"

"You mean I'm the victim of slander." Oliver said, clearly put upon.

"Slander- Oliver, I am sorry, I know it's very hard on you, but someday you will have to face the awful truth: you snore." 

"He's right," Ellen offered helpfully. "But-"

"Well I never wanted to go to this stupid lecture anyway!" Oliver said.

"You owed me for the jogging alone," Percy shot back.

"Well this never would have happened if we had done what I wanted to do." 

"Oliver. How many times do I have to tell you?  I. Am. Never. Going. To. Go. To. A. Karaoke. Bar. Never. As long as I have a least one functioning brain cell." Percy crossed his arms firmly.

"Guys?" Ellen tried to get their attention.

"It would've been fun," Oliver continued.

"Ha."

"It would have!"

"Oliver, you forget that I've heard you sing."

Ooh. Oliver narrowed his eyes. "Well at least I-"

"Hey!" Ellen stepped forward. "Guys, I really have to go, so I'll just let you get back to your, um, whatever." She had a strange glint in her eyes as she looked back and forth between the two men. It was almost like she was trying not to laugh. "You must bring Percy along when we go out after the scrimmage on Monday."

"Sure," Oliver said.

"Oh," added Ellen with a smile, "and Nancy's coming, too."

Oliver groaned. "Not Nancy. She's so…"

"I know. You'll come?" she asked Percy, who nodded. "Great! We always like to meet Oliver's…friends." Ellen went back the way she came from, her boots clicking down the steps. "See you in training!" she called over her shoulder, flashing a smile that said 'I know something you don't know'. 

"What was that about?" Oliver muttered.

"I don't know." Percy shrugged.

Argument forgotten, they walked on.

*~*~*~*

Things on the Fred and George front were quiet. Too quiet. 

There had been no apparent follow up on the "we have ways" comment, which made Percy nervous. 

Percy hadn't heard anything from them at all. He hadn't heard from them after he had gone to one of Oliver's training sessions. Or after the trip to the Wizard amusement park- yet another of Oliver's "fun things". Or after they had gone shopping in Diagon Alley for a new self-filing file cabinet for Percy's office (Oliver had thought the neon green one with blue furry handles would brighten up his office; Percy thought not). He hadn't heard from the twins after any of the three times he and Oliver had coffee over the past week. Percy had never taken so many long lunch breaks in his life. 

It was all very suspicious. 

Well, perhaps their matchmaking efforts would stop soon, since it clearly hadn't worked. He and Oliver we're just friends, which was plenty novelty already, thank you very much. 

*~*~*~*

            "Relax Percy, there's nothing to be nervous about. They'll like you." Oliver twirled the straw around in his coke glass, clinking the ice cubes.

            "What are you talking about? I am perfectly calm, thank you." Percy was sitting stiffly in his seat, sipping intermittently on a glass of water. He was obviously trying to relax, which only managed to make him look tenser. 

            "Hah. You're folding napkins again. Any moment now you'll have an origami swan."

            Percy huffed at him. "That's ridiculous." He put the napkin down on the table.  He pushed it away. "I don't even know origami," he said after a moment. 

Oliver smiled. "They should be here any minute- oh wait, there's Nancy. Maybe she won't notice us," Oliver muttered, glaring at a willowy brunette on the other side of the bar. He hunched down into his seat.

"Oliver!!" Nancy called, making her way over.

"Crap." Oliver forced a smile. "Hi Nancy."

"Hullo!" A lascivious grin spread across Nancy's face as she caught sight of Percy. "And who are _you_?"

"I told you he was coming, Nancy," Oliver said.

Nancy shot Oliver a look as she sat down. "I know." She turned to Percy. "So. You're Percy, right?

"Yes."

"Nancy here is the team's reserve keeper," Oliver said.

"I'm just waiting for Oliver to kick the bucket so I can take his job," Nancy said with a malicious grin.

"Thanks. You're a real friend," Oliver deadpanned. 

"Aren't I?" Nancy turned to Percy. "Tell me, Percy, how did you and Mr. Jumped Up here become friends?" Nancy leaned forward, resting her head on her hand. Oliver frowned. Nancy was almost…leering at Percy.

Percy pulled back. "Oh. We were at school together." 

"Oh!" Nancy grinned. "That's great! So you knew ol' Oliver when he was 12, didn't you?" Oliver groaned.

"Well, um, yes." 

"Any horribly embarrassing stories?" Nancy stared at Percy intently.

Percy looked at Oliver. "No," he said.

"Come on, Percy, you're holding out on me, aren't you?" Nancy cocked her head.

"Well…um, there was this one time in Potions where he-"

"Percy, if you have a single shred of mercy in your body, you will not finish that sentence." Oliver looked pleadingly over at Percy. He shot a murderous glance at Nancy. 

Percy shrugged, and didn't say anything more. "Don't worry about it," Nancy said, patting Percy's hand, "you can tell me later. So what do you do, Percy?" Nancy moved her chair right next to Percy's and smiled at him again. Oliver frowned. It was like she was chatting him up or something- which was just wrong. 

"I work for the Ministry." Percy inched his chair away. 

"That's just fascinating," Nancy breathed, scooting closer. Oliver rolled his eyes. Could she be any more obvious?

"You think so?" Percy voice was definitely higher then normal.

"Oh, yes." The woman actually batted her eyelashes. 

"Great. Heh." Percy swallowed audibly.

"You know, you're kind of cute when you're all flustered like that." 

I never thought the word smarmy could apply to a girl, Oliver thought, glaring, as Nancy placed her hand on Percy's and looked meaningfully at him. Percy's eyes widened almost comically. 

"Um…excuse me." Percy snatched his hand away. "I, um, have to go to…the loo, right." He practically bolted from his seat.

When he was gone, Nancy turned to find Oliver glowering at her. "What?"

"You didn't have to- why do you always do that?" Oliver exclaimed.

"Oh, come on, he's cute."

"Hands off," Oliver bit out.

"Why do you care?" 

"Because it's embarrassing! Besides, you're never going to get anywhere with Percy. He's gay." Ha, Oliver thought. And ha again.

"I see."  From the look on her face, Nancy was not deterred in the slightest. In fact, she probably saw it as a challenge.

"Nancy, just don't-"

Before Oliver could properly warn her off, Ellen arrived. "Oliver! Did you bring Percy?" 

"He's in the bathroom,' Oliver said, with a venomous glance at Nancy.

"Oh." Ellen sat down. "Well, what have you been up to lately?" she asked. 

"Nothing much," Oliver shrugged.

"You don't have a new boyfriend or anything, right?" Ellen asked, a strange expression on her face. 

"No." Oliver shook his head. 

"You mean all of Nancy's attempts to set you up didn't take? There's a shocker," said Ellen sarcastically.

"Hey, they were all perfectly nice guys!" Nancy protested, glaring at Ellen. 

"Oh, yeah, Gary, the bloke who was going to become an internationally renowned pop idol playing the accordion, he was a real catch," Oliver said, grimacing.

"A prince among men," Ellen said, smirking. Oliver smiled at her.

And as the Nancy and Ellen began talking cattily about other things, Oliver twirled the straw in his drink again and looked toward the loo. What was taking Percy so long? Bloody Nancy. 

"Hello? Earth to Oliver?" Oh. They were staring at him.

"What?" Oliver asked.

"She just asked you who exactly this Percy guy was," Nancy said.

"Three times," Ellen put in.

"Sorry. Um, his name is Percy, we were at school together, and he's-"

"Really cute." Nancy grinned.

"Shut it, Nancy. He's…"

"Coming this way?" Nancy said again.

"No- oh. Hi Percy." 

"Hi." Percy was standing hesitantly next to the table, looking at everyone. He looked at Nancy, who patted the seat next to her. Percy sat down on the other side of Oliver, next to Ellen. Ha.

"Hey Percy, you remember Ellen, from a week back?" 

"Yes." Percy smiled slightly.

 "Hey, where is everyone else, anyway?" Oliver asked.

"Last I saw Brad he was trying to get a date from the mediwitch who fixed his nose after that bludger got him today," Ellen said, making a face.

"And what are Mark and Lisa doing?" Oliver asked.

"Each other," Nancy said, snorting. Ellen whacked her on the shoulder.

"They had another fight," said Ellen, which was explanation enough.

"See Mark and Lisa have been dating for three years. They fight and, ah, make up all the time." Oliver explained to Percy.

"I see."

"Hey hey," said Nancy, wiggling her eyebrows. Ellen whacked her on the shoulder again.

"You'll have to forgive her," Ellen said to Percy. "We think she was dropped on her head as a baby."

"Oh shut up, hag," Nancy snapped.

Ellen rolled her eyes and the pair of them were off on an argument.

"Oliver," Percy said quietly after a while.

"What?" Oliver turned to him.

"Your mates kind of remind me of my family." Percy said to Oliver. They smiled at each other as Nancy threw a complimentary peanut at Ellen.

And Oliver was in a good mood until Nancy and Ellen stopped sniping at each other. Then Nancy turned her full attention to Percy and coyly said, "I've always had a weakness for redheads. What's your sign?" 

*~*~*~*

Why was everyone hitting on Percy?

First Nancy, and now Oliver was sure their waiter was making eyes at him too. The way he said, "Just another water, sir?" made Oliver's fists clench. 

Bastards.

He went to order a whiskey at the bar.

*~*~*~*

An hour later, and Nancy was still at it. She kept encouraging Percy to join into the conversation, which would have been fine if everything that came out of her mouth wasn't dripping with sexual innuendo. 

Naturally Percy wasn't interested, but still…Percy did have girlfriend back at Hogwarts. Not that Oliver had liked Penny much. 

"So, Percy tell me more about what you do," Nancy was purring. 

As Percy answered Oliver sulked; then he took a sip of whiskey and nearly choked on it.

"Nancy," Oliver growled.

"What?" Nancy asked innocently.

"That's my leg. Not his." Bloody Nancy.

"Sorry." Nancy said as she slid her foot back down his pants, though she didn't look at all apologetic. He noted, with much satisfaction, that Percy had hastily pulled his chair away from the table.

Still, it made Oliver want to wring her neck. Nancy had always been the type to go after just about anything with a Y chromosome, but it had never bothered him before. It was just that…what? 

It was just that he was used to having Percy all to himself. As a friend, of course. No one else was supposed to notice his dry sense of humor, or the way his hair looked in a certain light, or the way his entire face transformed when he smiled, or the way- oh. Wait-

"Oliver?"

"What?" Oliver jerked his head toward Percy, eyes wide.

"Are you okay?"

"Why wouldn't I be? I'm fine. Great. Fine."  What the hell was the matter with him? Oliver shook his head.

"You just had an odd look on your face," Percy said, puzzlement putting a tiny adorable crinkle between his eyebrows. Adorable? Wait-

"I'm fine. Fine," he assured Percy hastily. He was fine. Yes. Oliver took another sip of whiskey and tried to forget about it. 

Bloody Nancy. It was all her fault.

*~*~*~*

Over an hour later Nancy laughed so hard that her Rum and Coke nearly gushed out her nose. 

"I think it's time to leave," said Ellen, turning from her conversation with Percy. They had been talking for a while, as the sobriety of their companions evaporated, since neither drank much.

"Why? We're having fun. Aren't we Brad?" Nancy started giggling again for no apparent reason. Brad had finally turned up half an hour ago, already drunk, after an apparently disastrous date with the mediwitch.

"Because when you actually start laughing at one of Brad's 'a blonde, a priest, and a donkey walk into a bar' jokes you're too pissed to apparate."

"Hey! That one's funny." Brad glared fuzzily at Ellen. Or rather, a space halfway between her and Percy. 

"Sure, Brad. And I'm Merlin's ghost. You too. Let's go. I'll summon the Knight Bus." Ellen stood up and hoisted Brad and Nancy from their seats. "Hey Percy, you'll see Oliver home, right? You know he lives just a few blocks form here, right?"

"Oh. Of course. Bye Ellen."

"Goodbye Percy. We'll have to talk more."

"Mm-hmm." Percy turned his head to the left. Oliver was still asleep on his shoulder. 

Oliver had passed out a little while ago. After his seventh shot of whiskey he had mumbled something incoherent and irritable and had just slumped over. Percy could have moved him, but he hadn't. It was rather comfortable, after all, and Percy rather hated to wake him- it was something about the he looked asleep- almost like a hyperactive boy who had worn himself out. 

"Oliver." Percy gently shook him.

With a sharp intake of breath, Oliver sat up. "Wha- what is it? Oh. Sorry about that, Percy." 

"No, don't worry. I didn't mind." Which was true. 

"Nancy's gone," Oliver observed.

"Yes. She left with Brad and Ellen." 

"Ha," said Oliver triumphantly. He really didn't make sense sometimes.

Oliver was still pretty pissed when they reached his flat. Percy opened the door and helped the teetering Quidditch player into bed. "Are you going to be all right?" Percy asked, pulling off his shoes. He placed them very neatly by Oliver's nightstand.

"Oh, fine." Oliver said. Percy pulled up the bed covers and couldn't stop himself from smoothing them a little. 

A warm hand wrapped around Percy's wrist. His breath caught. 

"Percy?"

"Yes." Percy was suddenly a lot closer to Oliver than he thought he'd been.

"Thank you," Oliver said softly, smiling that loopy smile at him. The hand slipped from Percy's wrist as Oliver's eyes fluttered shut.

Percy stared at him for a moment, as though searching for an answer to a question he didn't even know. Oliver's brown hair had fallen over his forehead. Percy brushed it away with an absent smile and stepped back. He had reached the door to Oliver's room when he was stopped by a blurry voice. "Percy!" 

"Did you have a good time?" Oliver asked blearily, sitting up.

"Yes. I did." Which was true again, to Percy's surprise. "Your friends are great. Though I think I like Ellen the best."

"You would." Oliver smiled and Percy turned to go again. Oliver seemed to think of something else then, as a scowl came across his face. "Percy!" The redhead stopped once more. "Not Nancy, though? I mean, you didn't _like_ Nancy, did you?"

"Of course not! I mean she's okay…but I don't…you know I don't…" 

"Good," Oliver murmured, and the scowl went away. 

"Why?" Percy asked.

"Why? Well- because you're…well, my- and she's just- and…I don't know. 'Cause," Oliver ended petulantly.

After watching Oliver for a moment, Percy shook his head. "I think you need to go sleep this off."

"Fine." Oliver sat back on his pillows. Behind him, Percy heard a mumbled, "No. It's not fine."  

"Percy!" And when Percy turned around for the third time, he saw a strange expression on Oliver's face.

"What is it now?" Percy asked.

"Come here."

"Oliver- what's wrong? I really think you've had too much to drink," Percy said hesitantly, taking a few steps toward Oliver's bed. 

"Come here," Oliver said again, and though his eyes were fuzzy from the alcohol, Percy could see something sharply clear in them that made his pulse accelerate.

Percy knelt by the side of the bed. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Percy…don't go-" And Oliver kissed him.

The feel of Oliver's lips and the taste of whiskey and the smell of his cologne and that sound from the back Oliver's throat were so heady and overwhelming that Percy couldn't move. He was still frozen in shock when Oliver stopped and fell back onto his bed and closed his eyes with a sleepy sigh. Percy was absolutely still though his entire body was humming. In fact, he only managed to stand up moments later when Oliver had begun snoring.

"I told you that you snored," Percy said tonelessly. He straightened his clothes. He composed his face. He turned and walked quickly to the door of Oliver's flat, the picture of calm, even if his mind was not.

He probably won't remember this at all in the morning- that was the only thought that came forth from the clamor of conflicting thoughts and feelings that gripped him.

Was that a good thing or a bad thing? He didn't know. It didn't make sense. 

Oliver was drunk, right? 

But then why…? 

And it had been…

It didn't make any sense at all.

He closed the door to Oliver's flat and had sagged against it for a minute, forcing himself to take slow, calming breaths of air. He struggled to get his mind (and heart rate) into some kind of order. 

Still, one thought pounded over and over in his head. What was he going to do about this? 

Percy pushed himself off the door and managed to find his way back to his flat, though later he didn't remember how. By the time he reached his front door, Percy had made a decision.

He would just have to forget all about it. 

"It never happened," Percy muttered.

Percy spent the rest of the evening, as he got ready for bed, trying to convince himself- but it was awfully hard when his lower lip still tasted faintly of whiskey.

Across the street from Oliver's flat, in the bushes, two heads looked into one pair of omniculars. They watched Percy's face as he paused outside Oliver's flat. They watched his dazed expression as he made his way vaguely home. They watched as a man in a bowler hat went walking his dog late a night. 

"Oh, he turned a corner," Fred muttered. "But did you see that?" he whispered gleefully, before looking around and stepping stealthily out of the bushes. He slipped on his sunglasses.

"I most certainly did," George said, following him just as stealthily. 

"Is it time now, George, do you reckon?"

"My dear brother," George replied, clapping him on the back, "it most certainly is."  

            Oliver Wood would never know what hit him.

A/N: Never fear, the wonderful, awful idea is next. And chapter five is mostly written, so it should be here soon. 


	5. The Wonderful, Awful Idea

The Blind Date- Chapter Five

Author: Merelyn25

Rating: This is a full blown PG-13, guys. Really. I mean it. 

Warnings, Disclaimers, etc: See Chapter One.

**A/N:** Prepare yourself for the farcical unrealism ahead. My apologies. It's all their fault. *points at Fred and George* :) 

Oh, and there is a line I ripped off from a movie (it might be from somewhere else and just used in a movie, though). Whoever spots it gets… the great satisfaction of knowing you spotted a ripped off line from a movie in my fic. 

Oh, a part later is similar to a bit in a fic by Teague, "Willful Blindness." I know. *hangs head in shame at own unoriginality* I recommend reading it, and all of her things, btw. 

This takes place immediately during/following the events in chapter four.

            As Percy walked home, he was only able to put aside a small part of his mind to ensure that he actually got there, as the rest of it had been knocked upside down and was still desperately trying to right itself.

            If he had been thinking clearly, Percy would have noticed that he was being followed. He would have noticed the pair of bickering redheads in nondescript trench coats and sunglasses, who were about a block behind him on the other side of the street. 

"Fred!" George hissed. "Let me go first. I can't see."

"Shut it!" Fred whispered. "." For good measure, Fred reached back and whacked his brother, as there was nothing George could do in retaliation that wouldn't give them away.

The pair trailed Percy, George trying to act as normal and unnoticeable as possible. Fred, on the other hand, pressed himself against the sides of buildings and made sneaking dashes through the pools of light under the streetlamps.

"How is it that I'm supposed to be identical to someone with a sock for brains?" George muttered. 

"Piss off," Fred whispered, stopping to whack George again.

"Stop that! Look, he's obviously going to back to his flat."

"So?"

"Let's just apparate into his apartment and wait until he goes to sleep."

"But...no more sneaking?" Fred halted mid-skulk with a crestfallen look.

They popped into Percy's living room seconds later. "I wonder if he has any food?" George said, turning toward the kitchen. "I'm starving."

"Wait-" Fred put a hand on his arm. He was looking toward the door. "He's back." The sound of footsteps outside the door was getting louder.

"Shite." They scrambled around the apartment for a hiding place. George made it to the linen closet before his brother, and closed the door in his face.

"Let me in!" Fred hissed, tugging at the knob.

"Too small," came a smug whisper from inside. 

"You bastard." Fred whipped around in a panic. 

"That's what you get for hitting me," George answered sweetly.

Fred only barely made it behind the braided ficus plant when Percy spelled the door open.

Fred tried to breathe quietly and look like a small tree. He was failing on both counts. When Percy walked by him, and stopped, Fred held his breath. 

Percy muttered something to himself and went into his bedroom. 

Fred stayed concealed behind the ficus, listening to the sounds of Percy getting ready for bed. Finally, a half and hour later, Percy seemed to be asleep. The linen closet door creaked open and George poked his head out. 

"Let's go get him," said George, with a grin.

And they did.

*~*~*~*

Oliver awoke the next morning and sat up in bed. Ooh. Hangover.

Wincing, Oliver began rubbing his temples.  He must have gotten pretty smashed last night, though could only remember up to meeting his mates with Percy at that bar. After that, his mind was a-

Someone sighed.

Oliver stopped, hands frozen to the sides of his head. His eyes snapped open. He turned to his right. 

There was someone there. 

Someone with red hair, freckles, and a pair of glasses that were slightly crushed into Oliver's pillow. Someone who stirred a little and sighed again. 

 That someone was naked, from what he could see. And Oliver was only in his boxers.

"Holy hell," he croaked. 

What in God's name was Percy Weasley doing naked in his bed? 

"There's no way…" He almost laughed, just to assure himself.

Unless-

Unless, of course, last night he had gotten blind, stinking drunk (well, that was actually a given), ended up back at his flat, and had tumbled into bed with a person who was quickly becoming one of his closest friends. Percy, of course, would've been drunk too (unlikely) or completely off the deep end. 

What other explanation was there, though?

He was never getting plastered again. It only led to extraordinarily stupid things- like that unfortunate tattoo of "I Luv Cornelius" on his lower back, or apparently sleeping with Percy. (Oliver was holding on to the "apparently" for dear life.)

Percy. Who was currently curled toward Oliver, his usual pristine appearance sleep-rumpled. Whose expression was actually unguarded for once and whose pink mouth was open just a little-

Oliver's head reared back.

Why did Percy's mouth give Oliver the feeling of déjà vu? A fleeting thought of "He's not hers, he…" surfaced from the aching sludge of his mind.

He almost remembered…something. Oh, shite. 

"I'm such a moron," Oliver muttered, looking down at the sleeping figure next to him. There was no surer way to terminate a friendship with someone than by shagging them. It would be awkward. And uncomfortable. And slowly, they would stop talking to each other. Oliver turned his head away. He felt more hungover than ever.

He needed a cup of coffee. And a tiny cowardly part of him really didn't want to be there when Percy woke up. After all, as long as Percy was sleeping, everything was fine. They were still friends. Friends who were currently sharing a bed, but still friends.

Oliver climbed out of his bed. "Hey!"

Or rather, he tried to. Because every time Oliver made to put his foot on the floor, the hardwood slipped out of reach. After a minute of awkwardly hanging over the end of the bed, feet flailing, Oliver gave up. 

He couldn't get off of his own bed. And where was his wand, anyway?

What the bloody hell was going on here? 

"I must be going mad," he muttered. "That's it. I've gone off my trolley. That's the only explanation for why I seem to be trapped, nearly naked, in bed with Percy…" 

Wait a minute.

"Those bastards." He had always known Fred and George should've been committed at birth. 

Oliver felt a rush of relief. For a second there he had actually thought that…

He settled back to his place, thinking. He was trapped, naked, in bed with Percy. And they _hadn't shagged. _

Okay then. It was a little strange, but oh well. Fred and George would die later.

Shrugging, Oliver grabbed a Quidditch magazine off the nightstand and sat up against the headboard, idly leafing through the pages. Percy had moved closer to Oliver's side of the bed during the failed escape attempt. Oliver looked down at his friend and wondered if he should wake him. No sooner had the thought occurred to him when suddenly Percy stirred again and burrowed up against Oliver's torso with a satisfied murmur. Oliver's eyes widened.

It was now a little stranger.

Percy's hair was tickling his stomach; Oliver could feel the redhead's shallow breathing against his skin. 

 Disturbed on some level, Oliver figured that this was definitely the time to push Percy away, wake him up and figure out a way out of there.

But he didn't. 

After all, his bed was nice and warm, as was Percy, and it wasn't like he had anywhere to be until later.

Oliver calmly turned the page of his magazine. Somewhere, in between the article on the latest racing broom and the one on Scotland's new keeper, the warmth against his side stopped being so strange. It was almost…nice. When Oliver began absently stroking the soft red hair at his elbow, he didn't notice. And when Percy's arm somehow found its way around his waist, he didn't mind.

*~*~*~*

There was a hand on his head. That was the first sensation Percy registered as he stirred from sleep. Odd. And he didn't hear the sound of the alarm clock that usually woke him. Very odd.

 Percy looked up. 

A pair of brown eyes and a familiar face with an expression that Percy was certain he'd never forget. Oliver. And he was- Percy yelped.

It was at that point that Percy suffered a brief, temporary mental meltdown.

He sprung away as though Oliver was on fire. "I- I- I-" Somehow that was the only thing coming out his mouth. 

He sat, pressed against the headboard, face flushed, sheet wrapped around him, and tried very hard not to look at Oliver, who seemed to be of a similar mind. After a random thought, he took a hesitant peek under his sheet. Percy had never been so glad to see a pair of boxers in his life. 

Still, this was really quite embarrassing.

He had nearly forgotten all about last night. Really. By the time he had finished brushing his teeth, Percy was prepared to meet Oliver the next time with perfect equanimity. 

So much for that, Percy thought, blushing as he never had before. 

The silence was so awkward and Percy was so mortified that- maybe if he stared at it hard enough the ceiling fan would come crashing down and put him out of his misery.  

Percy cast about for something to say to break the silence.

"I-" There it was again. "Sorry," was all he could finally manage.

"It's okay," Oliver said, though the tone of his voice suggested the opposite.

"I was-"

"I know."

"Oh. Right." Percy pulled his sheet up to his neck, blushing, if possible, even more.

Had he and Oliver actually…?  And why didn't he remember it? Sleeping with Oliver wasn't exactly something that would just slip his mind.  

Besides, after the incident that _never happened_ last night, Percy had gone home and to bed. Alone. It didn't make sense.

"Um- Did we…?" Percy ventured.

"I don't think so." 

"Then why-"

"Try getting off the bed." Oliver was being almost calm about this, which didn't make Percy feel any better at all. 

"What do you mean?" 

"Just try it." 

Percy wrapped his sheet around him with as much dignity as he could muster and swung his legs over the end of the bed. His left foot reached for the floor- and kept going. "It's like the floor is always a few inches away," Percy mused.

"I know."

Something was very wrong here- well, besides the fact that Percy didn't normally wake up practically on top of a naked Quidditch player every morning. 

Percy looked around the room. "And where are our wands? And our, um, clothes?"

"I'll give you a hint. They have red hair, twisted minds, they're related to you…" Oliver stopped, as realization dawned on Percy's face. 

"I'm going to kill those two," Percy said, scowling.

"You always say that." Oliver almost smiled.

"I always mean it!" Percy snapped angrily. For a second there he had actually thought that- 

"I mean where do Fred and George get off pulling something like this?" And embarrassing me like this, Percy thought, fuming. "Oh- and it's Tuesday and I have a meeting at work today, and I'm going to miss it, and they probably didn't even think of that in this stupid, ridiculous, misguided attempt to-"

"Hey calm down," Oliver said, moving over and putting a hand on Percy's shoulder. Percy's rant halted instantly.

He stiffened and Oliver jerked his hand away. Percy saw that expression creeping back into his face.

Abruptly they moved back to opposite sides of the bed, very carefully not touching. An awkward silence descended again.

They had to get out of here. As soon as possible.

*~*~*~*

 "Have you tried just jumping off?" Percy asked after a moment. 

"No." Oliver turned to Percy. "You want to go first?"

"Not really." Percy looked over the edge. 

"Fine." Oliver wrapped the comforter around his waist and readied himself. Suddenly he froze on one knee near the edge. Oliver threw the end of the comforter over his shoulder with a dramatic air; his chin titled up. "Percy?"

"Yes?"

"If I don't come back, tell my mum I love her." Oliver turned bravely back to the edge. "Farewell. I do not regret the things I've done, but those I-"

"Oh, shut up." Percy pushed him off the bed.

"Hey!" Oliver squawked. 

A strange thing happened. No sooner had Oliver gone over than a flash of bright while light filled the room. The floor spit Oliver back up. With a yell, he flew into the air, limbs whirling, and crashed back onto the bed.

Or rather, onto Percy. 

Torso to torso. 

Without the comforter.

Which meant there was only a thin sheet separating them. 

If that wasn't bad enough, the flushed, almost breathless look on Percy's face made it worse. Much worse. Especially since Percy's glasses had been knocked off somehow and Oliver could actually _see Percy's eyes for the first time. He couldn't move. Oliver had the odd feeling that this would all make sense if he could only figure out what was in Percy's eyes._

And for a moment, the only sound in the room was their breathing.

"Oliver?" Their faces were so close that Oliver could feel Percy say his name in a warm brush of air. 

"Hmm?"

"Your elbow is on my glasses." Percy's eyes flickered away.

"Oh." 

The bed creaked as Oliver quickly pushed himself off. He handed Percy back his glasses and retrieved the comforter in the unnerving silence that hung in the air. 

It stretched forever.

There had to be a way to make this better- some funny comment to get rid of the tension and that closed expression on Percy's face.

Oliver couldn't think of anything- but suddenly his mouth quirked. Really, in such a situation, there was only one thing to do. And Oliver really wanted to do it.

 "Percy?"

Percy swallowed, adjusting his glasses. "What?"

"You aren't by any chance, oh I don't know, ticklish?" 

"Um…no?" 

Oliver rounded on his friend with a wicked smile. Perfect.

"No…Oliver, wait- don't." Percy scrambled back and Oliver came closer. "You don't want to do this. You don't. I'm not- I'm not even ticklish," Percy pronounced, in what Oliver was beginning to think of as his 'Head Boy voice'. Oliver pounced. 

"Oh, get off," Percy said as Oliver tickled his chest. Percy didn't move, trying very hard to maintain his dignity. "See?" he coughed. "I'm not…ticklish." He tried to push Oliver away.

"Really?"

"Yes. You can stop now."  Percy was tensed up, face firmly under control, obviously fighting the urge to squirm under Oliver hands. Then Oliver found Percy's hips. Percy yelped. 

"Oliver! Stop! St-stop!" Percy was soon the victim of a full fledged tickle assault, and Oliver had the pleasure of hearing Percy laugh, really laugh, for the first time. 

He should do that more often, Oliver thought absently. He paused and pulled his head back.

Oliver paid for the moment of distraction.  Percy's hands shot forward and grabbed Oliver's wrists. He pulled Oliver over with a yank. "Hey!"  Suddenly Oliver found himself flat on his back, a smirking Weasley looming over him. 

Who sat on him and crossed his arms. 

"Come on, Percy, geroff." Oliver struggled to get away.

"Hmph. You deserve it." Percy didn't move from his position.

"Aren't you going to do anything?" Oliver asked after a moment.

"No." 

"Why not?"

"Because it would be immature," Percy said, as though it was obvious.

"Ah. Then why are you still sitting on me?" Oliver asked, hiding a smile.

"Because I know what will happen if I don't." 

"What if I were to promise not to tickle you anymore?" Oliver said, with an innocent expression. 

"I wouldn't believe you."

"Good. Because I'd lie." Oliver smiled.

"I know you would." Percy smiled back.

"Percy," Oliver said after a moment, "Do you ever think you might have been a pirate in a previous life?"

"What??" Percy sat back, momentarily confused.

"Gotcha." Oliver surged forward.

"Hey! You- hey!" Oliver fingers found Percy's sensitive sides and Percy was off gasping and laughing again. "You cheated!" he choked out.

"All's fair in love and war, my friend," Oliver said as he continued tickling and Percy let out another burst of laughter. 

"No- let go! Stop! I- I can't take it," Percy finally managed to push him off. 

After shooting a glare at Oliver, Percy straightened his glasses. He stopped, staring just below Oliver's waist. A smirk almost emerged.

"What?" Oliver asked. Why was Percy looking…there?

"Of course you have an ugly pair of Quidditch boxers." Percy shook his head at the busy whirr of quaffles, bludgers and snitches zooming around Oliver's thighs. "I should have known."

"Ugly?" Oliver exclaimed, looking down in an offended way.

"Well, hideous is a better word." 

"I'll have you know these are very stylish," Oliver said airily.

Percy snorted. 

"They are! The woman at the shop said so." Oliver lower lip jutted out. It was clear he was rather attached to them.

"They're neon yellow with balls flying all over them." Percy's mouth twitched. He looked so bloody insufferable that Oliver couldn't help reaching to his left. Really, the nerve of some people- insulting his underwear. 

Percy didn't see it coming- the pillow hit him smack in the nose. Percy's face settled into a very calm, very annoyed expression.

"Oliver?" Percy said, not moving a muscle.

"Yes?" 

"I'm going to get you for that." Percy lunged for the pillow on his right. 

*~*~*~*

Percy had never been in a pillow fight before. Later, he decided that he had definitely been missing out.

"Ow!" Percy, on his knees, picked up the pillow that had glanced off his head and chucked it back at Oliver, who caught it. There was a menacing glint in his eye; Percy was now unarmed.

"Wait-" Percy squeaked. He was in for it now.

"Take it back," Oliver intoned.

"What?"

"Repeat after me: Oliver's Quidditch boxers are not hideous. In fact, I think I will go out and buy a pair I like them so much."

Percy snorted again, more derisively this time.

"Say it, Percy," Oliver said, advancing closer. He raised the pillow above his head.

"Wait!" Percy tried to stand up to get away, only to get tangled in the sheets. "Woah!" He pitched forward and landed in an inelegant heap on the bed. "Oof."

He was all twisted up in the sheets; Oliver was laughing at him and he was laughing too. Percy tried to get away again, but it he kept getting tangled. And Oliver kept laughing, the great prat.  

"Walk much?" Oliver said, after Percy stopped struggling.

"Shut up," Percy smiled, his voice emerging from the pillow his face was pressed into. Percy had somehow ended up face down on the bed, his elbow next Oliver's head, their legs jumbled together. 

 "Now who's wearing the hideous boxers?" said Oliver smugly.

Percy turned his head to the right, where Oliver was almost laughing at him. "That makes absolutely no sense at all."

"Oh shut up," Oliver said. And he whacked Percy with a pillow again. 

"Stop it." Percy made an irritable grab for Oliver's pillow. Oliver pulled it out of reach.

"Let go!" From there it escalated into tangled game of tug of war over the pillow. Oliver finally wrenched the pillow away from Percy's surprisingly iron grip. Percy sprung for the pillow, lunging over Oliver to get at it. 

"I don't think so," Oliver said with a grin, waving the pillow back over his head with one hand while the other found its way to tickle Percy's side.

Percy gasped and tried to swat him away, reaching for the pillow.

And then Percy looked down at Oliver (to say something, he didn't remember what), and, as though by an unspoken accord, they both stilled. It was then Percy realized a few things: it was really quiet and he was actually lying on top of Oliver and Oliver's hand was still on his hip and Oliver's face was only a few inches away and-

And that was how Fred and George found them.

"Wait. I know," said Fred with a grin. "It's not what it looks like, right?" 


	6. In Which a Certain Tshirt Makes a Reappe...

The Blind Date- Chapter Six

Warning/Disclaimers: See Chapter One.

A/N: I would like to thank each and every person who has given me feedback. You have no idea how much it helps. 

Percy had to reread the same paragraph about International Floo tolls 3 times before he could actually comprehend it. Finally he sighed, and stretched his neck.

He was being quite unproductive today. Normally he got through the morning reports by 10:30, and he today wasn't even finished yet- and it was 11:30.

Percy wasn't about to admit to himself why.

It was just that- well, today was going be the first time he and Oliver would meet since the morning Fred and George had sprung that ridiculous practical joke on them. 

After the twins had finally released them and returned their wands, Percy had certainly given them a piece of his mind. Fred and George had just smirked, of course. It was then that Percy had discovered that it was rather hard to look imposing and stern when you were in your boxers and the victim of a Weasley full body blush. 

Oliver had just said, "You two are very, _very _lucky you didn't interfere with my Quidditch practice," and shunted them out the door- but not before Fred had called, "Oh, we'll just leave you two alone," in a tone of voice that had made Percy want to wring his neck.

Then Percy had pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in the silence before saying, "I ought to get work, I suppose. I'm pretty late." 

"Yeah," Oliver had replied quietly. "Are we still on for coffee on Thursday?" They'd regarded each other for a moment before Percy had just nodded and apparated away. 

And today was Thursday. And it was nearly 12:00. And Mabel, his rather nosy secretary, had already asked him twice if he was feeling all right. Percy had told her that he was fine. He still wasn't certain if he'd lied or not.

Why did the prospect of meeting Oliver unsettle him so?

It never had before. In fact, he used to look forward to their weekly coffee meetings. Something was…different now.

Percy buried his head back in the report, making a concerted effort not to look at the clock; it was crawling and speeding along at the same time.

12:00 arrived soon enough, and Percy found himself at Grizzelda's. He ordered a cup of coffee (black, no milk, no sugar) and sat down. He looked down at his watch. In approximately 10 seconds, Oliver would come in through the door of the coffee shop and say, "Sorry I'm late, Percy."  Only now it was…

Percy stopped himself from reaching for the napkin on the table. (It was a silly habit, anyway.) Instead he looked to the door, then down at his watch again. 

3…      

2…

1…

"Sorry I'm late Percy!" Oliver said, scooting his chair closer to the table. 

"That's all right," Percy replied, hiding a small, if slightly nervous smile. 

            Oliver's equipment bag hit the floor with a thud. "I needed to talk with the coach about one of the plays for our first game." Percy only so much as nodded before Oliver was off. Any moment now, Oliver would begin demonstrating the plays using the sugar packets and coffee straws. Percy barely restrained himself from shaking his head with a smile. Instead, Percy settled back into his chair and took a sip of coffee, letting Oliver's words wash around him. It was almost normal- though Oliver _was_ talking a little faster than usual.

"And that way," Oliver said, moving a pair of straws toward Percy, "if the beaters keep knocking the bludgers back and forth across the field, it clears the way for the chasers to- oh hell." Oliver had accidentally tipped over Percy's cup of coffee with the onslaught of two sugar packets. 

"Are the chasers supposed to run into the goal post and knock it over?" Percy asked dryly. 

"Oh shut it," Oliver said, making a face at Percy as he began cleaning up the mess. 

"Here, let me help you," Percy said, reaching forward.

"Sorry about your-" Oliver fell silent mid-sentence when Percy's hand accidentally touched his own. 

Their eyes met for an instant before Percy swallowed and went back to cleaning up the coffee, which was running toward the edge of the table. 

They made small talk; Percy kept his hands quite firmly in his lap. There was even the mention of the weather before the conversation drifted back toward Quidditch. "And then Nancy comes up behind me," said Oliver, rolling his eyes balefully, "and starts making all of these comments, like she could've made that save, and maybe the wrong person was the reserve keeper." Oliver glared at nothing in particular. "Which is ridiculous," he added after a moment.

"Ridiculous," Percy echoed, nodding slowly. 

Oliver took a sip of latte. "Yeah." 

In the silence that followed Percy stared at his coffee and felt a tired twinge of anger towards Fred and George. 

*~*~*~*

After coffee, Percy neared his office, still lost in his thoughts. He had decided to walk rather than apparate back to the ministry; the extra time had done little to clear up the lingering confusion and frustration Percy felt after coffee had turned awkward. 

Mabel, his secretary, greeted him with a curious glint in her eye. "You're back," she said, in a strange tone.

"Yes," was all that Percy said, passing her.

"Um- there are two gentlemen here to see you, sir. They've been waiting for awhile," she added. 

"Their names?" Percy asked. He stopped and turned to her. 

"Oh…they said I should tell you that a Mr. Weatherby and a Mr. Stikuphisarse wished to speak with you."

"Oh did they, Mabel?" Percy deadpanned. Mabel shrugged not-so-innocently and sat down at her desk. Percy's eyes narrowed at the closed door to his office. His mouth set.

Percy opened the door to his office with a brisk, "Hello, Fred and George. What now?"

"Where were you?" Fred asked. His dirty shoes were already up on Percy's desk. That's going to leave a mark, Percy thought crossly. 

"That's none of you business," Percy said. This time, Percy was determined not to let Fred and George get to him.

"Really?" George asked. "You didn't go anywhere for lunch?"

"No," said Percy. He looked down and began signing forms. "Get your feet off my desk."

Fred did, but not before he mentioned casually, "That's not what your secretary said."

"What??" Percy's eyes jerked up, glaring out his door toward Mabel, who abruptly began filing her nails. Damn. They had gotten to him again. Percy quickly composed himself. "Regardless of what my secretary may or may not have told you, it's-"

"In fact," George continued, "she says you've been going out to lunch rather frequently of late." 

"You never used to do that, did you Percy?" Fred asked. 

"That's still none of your business," Percy said, fighting the blush he could feel coming on.

"You wouldn't by any chance be…meeting anyone?" Fred asked, looking puzzled. 

"Maybe a certain handsome Quidditch player that we all know?" George wondered.

Percy could see Mabel leaning eagerly towards his office out of the corner of his eye, trying to catch every word. Merlin only knew what Fred and George had told her before he arrived. "Out," Percy bit off. "Now." The expression on Percy's face was deadly serious, and for one reason or another, the twins actually listened to him. 

"Fine," George sniffed, "We know when were not wanted. Let's go, Fred," he added in a choked voice.

Fred stood up. "No," he said to Percy, holding out a dignified hand, "Don't bother. We can show ourselves out." Fred abruptly turned to the door and walked slowly out, shoulders squared. Percy glowered at him from his seat. 

"Besides," George said brightly, following Fred, "we have a letter to post." George winked just before shutting the door. 

Percy barely managed to keep from burying his head in his hands. 

*~*~*~*

That evening, around 9:30, Oliver approached the door to Percy's flat. He looked down at the letter in his hand for a moment. 

Hopefully this would go better than coffee had today. He and Percy had, through some tacit agreement, decided to completely ignore whatever had been about to happen before Fred and George had walked in on them this Tuesday. A good thing the twins had, too, Oliver had decided later. After all, snogging your uptight friend who was, if Oliver's guess was correct, barely out of the closet (and didn't think about you like that anyway) was just a bloody stupid thing to do if you hoping to remain friends. Even if Oliver had really wanted to. Even if, at the time, he had really wanted to just flip Percy onto his back and…dishevel him. How was it possible for a person to look so neat and proper even when they were in the middle of a half-naked pillow fight? It was just- stupid. Bloody stupid. 

Oliver could hear Percy's words now, the "sorry but I just don't feel that way about you" speech. It would be polite, Oliver was sure. Unfailingly polite. 

Things were better this way, even if they were now, in fits, both more comfortable and uncomfortable than they'd ever been before. But at least they were still speaking to each other.

Oliver broke from his reverie and knocked on the door, which opened a moment later to reveal Percy, in pajamas and a robe that was coming untied.

"Oliver? Wha-what are you doing here?" said Percy with a little yawn.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" 

"No," Percy replied, "I was just getting ready for bed." Percy stood back to let in Oliver.

Oliver didn't move. "At 9:30?" he asked, with a quirk of his eyebrow.

"I have a lot of work to do tomorrow," Percy said defensively.

"Workaholic," Oliver teased, walking through the door.

"Says the man who wants to be buried with his broom," Percy shot back. 

Oliver chose to ignore that. "Look, I was just going through my afternoon post and-" Oliver turned back toward Percy and did a slight double-take. 

His eyes locked on Percy's chest. Or rather, Percy's sparkly T-shirt. "Let go of my ears?" Oliver murmured to himself. A mischievous grin slowly spread across his face. "So, you do, do you?" he asked Percy.

"Beg pardon?" Percy asked.

"Know what you're doing?" Oliver prompted.

"What?"

Oliver pointed at the T-shirt twinkling out from the gap in Percy's robe. Percy looked down and gasped. Oliver could see Percy's face turning red.

"Oh…it's…" Percy sputtered. 

"It's what?" Oliver said, raising his eyebrows.

"You see…um…Fred and George got it for me…I- never wear it, really. I just-" Percy hastily re-adjusted his robe, tying it firmly shut.

"Sure, Percy." Oliver's smirk seemed glued to his face.

"Oh, shut up," Percy huffed, turning away to go into the kitchen. He walked over to a cupboard and poured himself a glass of water as nonchalantly as possible. 

"Anyway," Oliver continued, still smiling, "As I was saying, this came in my afternoon post." He walked over and handed Percy the letter. 

Percy put down his glass; he took one look at the handwriting on the outside and sighed. "Of course they sent you a letter." 

Percy unfolded it:

_Oliver-_

_We just came back from a tender heart to heart with our dear brother Percy. Though he is quite shy, we can tell that Percy thinks that you are dead sexy. _Percy would love for you to come to our family dinner on Sunday, but he would never ask you, as he has a stick up his arse. The dinner is at 6:00 at the Burrow. Percy will be waiting. __

_Signed,_

_ Fred and George._

He watched Percy read the letter; Oliver could tell which part Percy was on by the emotions flickering over his face. First disdain, then embarrassment, then indignation ("I do not have a stick up my arse!"), then back to embarrassment.

"Merlin- I mean, really! Where do they come up with things like that?" Percy exclaimed.

"You mean you don't think that I'm dead sexy?" Oliver pouted. It wasn't until Percy's expression dropped off his face that Oliver realized what he had said. Why did stupid things like that just pop out of his mouth? 

It was the only time Oliver could ever remember seeing Percy look confused. Percy half-shrugged and opened his mouth. "I-" 

"Never mind," Oliver cut in. 

And there was that uncomfortable thing again.

Percy cleared his throat and muttered, "I'm really getting sick of this."

Oliver's head turned toward Percy. "Of what?" he asked slowly.

"Fred and George. And their ridiculous schemes," Percy said.

Oliver let out a short laugh. "Well, that's too bad, because if I know your brothers, they won't stop until we get married and start adopting babies or something." Percy smiled a little at that, Oliver was pleased to note.

"I'm awfully sorry about this, Oliver," Percy said. "Maybe I can figure out a way make the twins stop all this before I see them at dinner on Sunday. Oh- and, um, you don't have to come if you don't want to- I mean, with Fred and George there, why would anyone-"

"I'll come," Oliver heard himself saying.

"Really?"

"What kind of friend would let you face those two all on your own?" he replied with a smile.

"Thank you," Percy murmured and looked away. He wandered over to the living room, and Oliver followed him. Percy pulled his robe more tightly around him, completely obscuring his sparkly T-shirt. Oliver smiled. Percy was sometimes full of surprises. You thought you had Percy pinned down, and then he would do something like shamelessly cheat at skeeball or wear a shirt like that. I wonder if he really does know what he's doing? Oliver thought absently. Wait-

Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Oliver was vaguely aware that he had made some sort of hacking noise.

"Are you okay?" Percy asked, taking a step towards him. "Do you need a glass of water?" 

"I'm fine." Oliver sat down on Percy's couch. He ran a hand over his forehead. He really needed to stop this. Right now. Did he _want_ to screw up his relationship with Percy? Was he hoping to completely blow their friendship to bits just because of a few unfortunate feelings that refused to go away?

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy asked again.

Oliver lowered his hand slowly and turned his head to the left. He blinked. Percy was kneeling by the couch, looking concerned and rather fussy. 

It felt very familiar.

"What did you say?" Oliver murmured. There was something in that- in the very back of his mind- what was it, what was it? Why was he suddenly thinking about that night a few days ago when they had gone to that bar and had met Ellen and Nancy- that night that was still…fuzzy?

"Are you sure you're okay?" Percy repeated, looking even more concerned.

Oh.

Oliver felt ill.

*Are you sure you're okay?* Percy had said.

And then he had said: *Percy, don't go.* And then he had-

_Oh._

Holy effing hell. 

He was so bloody stupid. 

 "Oliver? You really don't look well." Percy was frowning at him now. 

Why hadn't Percy told him? Actually, he knew the answer to that one: Percy was nothing if not polite, and there was really no polite way to mention to a friend that they had drunkenly snogged you the night before. Still, it least he hadn't ruined-

"Oliver?" 

What exactly happened when it turned out that you had already done the one stupid thing you'd been telling yourself that you weren't going to do?  

 "I'm fine, Percy," Oliver said. 

Percy was now standing up over at him, hands resting firmly on his hips. "You are not. You look positively ashen," he said forcefully.

"I'm _fine," Oliver said again. _

Percy leaned over the arm of the couch and put his hand on Oliver's forehead, much to Oliver's surprise. "You do feel a little warm, though. Strange," he murmured. 

"Why thank you, Mrs. Weasley," Oliver said, rolling his eyes. 

"I am not acting like my mum," Percy protested. He removed his hand, fingertips brushing through Oliver's hair just a little.  

Oliver swallowed. "No?' he asked, looking back up at Percy sardonically. "Just then you looked like you were ready to tuck me into bed and ladle fluids down my throat."

"Oh, shut up," said Percy. They smiled at each other, though Percy was obviously trying very hard not to.

Going after Percy was still an unbelievably bad idea. Oliver knew that (he did) - but it was getting harder and harder to believe it. 

Especially when Percy was looking at him like that.

"So," Oliver said quietly after a moment, "what are we going to do about the twins?"

"I don't know," Percy said. "They won't listen to either of us and- wait." Percy looked quite pleased with himself.

"What is it?" asked Oliver.

"Well, there _is one person I know of who can bend Fred and George to her will," Percy replied, titling his chin up. "My mother."_

*~*~*~*

That Sunday, around 5:00, Percy apparated in the living room of the burrow. To his relief, the room was empty. 

Normally Percy hated to ask anyone for help, but he had reached the end of his rope. And though Percy had made up his mind to talk to his mum about the whole thing, he was dreading it. Because explaining to Molly why Percy needed her to stop Fred and George's matchmaking antics might require explaining a few other things, namely the reason why the twins were trying to set him up with a guy. 

He could just leave out that part, of course, but Percy was terrible at lying to his mum. Terrible. The scant few times he had even tried, it had only taken one mildly questioning look from Molly Weasley before Percy had broken down in an embarrassed trickle of stammering and blushing. 

So, she had to know everything. All of it. Percy wasn't sure he was ready for that.

He took a deep breath anyway and called out, "Mum? Hello?" 

"Percy! You're early!" Molly cried as she came out of the kitchen. She gave him a peck on the cheek and looked Percy over. "Have you been eating well?"

"Yes, Mum," Percy replied dutifully.

"Hmph. You're skin and bones." Molly shook her head. "Well, not to worry, I've got a big dinner planned this evening."

"Right. Actually I- I wanted to talk to you about something."

She looked him over again before replying, "Sure, Percy. Come into the kitchen." Percy followed her. "Here, fold these." she handed him a pile of sheets and busied herself with the rest of the laundry. Molly didn't press him; instead, they folded in silence for a while until it was nearly finished. Percy gathered his thoughts. Finally he opened his mouth.

"It's rather difficult o explain. I- I-" Why was this so hard? It was just a few words. But Percy couldn't seem to spit them out. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

Molly put the last folded shirt in its pile and looked thoughtfully at Percy. "I think I know what this is about, dear."

"Y-you do?" How could she possibly-

"Mm-hmm. You're gay and dating that Oliver Wood boy."

Percy was dumbstruck.

"No! Well, yes to the first thing, but- I'm not- Oliver- we're just friends!" Percy gaped at his mum.

"Okay," she said, with an overly bland smile.

"How- where did you even hear about- I don't…"

"Well your father heard something at work, dear."

No.

Bloody, nosy, gossiping Mabel.

Merlin. 

Fred and George knew. Oliver knew. His parents knew. And now everyone at work knew, and if they didn't, it would only take another day at most for the story to spread. Somehow, though, Percy wasn't as horrified as he would've thought. 

"It's okay, Percy," Molly said gently. "Your father and I are fine with it. Are you going to stand there holding that sheet or are you going to fold it, dear?" she added.

Percy recovered himself and began mechanically folding the last sheet. 

"Oliver is the boy Fred and George invited to dinner, isn't he?" Mrs. Weasley asked after a bit.

Percy only managed to nod. 

"Good! Then your father and I will get to meet him."

"Mum- it's not like that. We're just friends." Percy protested. He finished folding the sheet and put it in the basket, carefully avoiding his mother's gaze. 

Molly leaned over a patted Percy's hand. "It'll work itself out." She picked the basket of laundry up and left the kitchen.

Percy stared after her. "What do you-"

"Would you mind setting the table, dear?" Molly called over her shoulder with a smile, leaving Percy alone in the kitchen with his thoughts. Five minutes passed before he realized that he had never gotten around to talking to her about Fred and George. 

*~*~*~*

It was nearly 6:00 when Percy managed to collect himself. He went into the kitchen only to find a pair of wicked grins greeting him. 

"Hello, Percy," said Fred. He looked so irritatingly _pleased_ that Percy wanted to-

"Hello," said Percy coldly. He adjusted his glasses for an optimal looking-down-one's-nose-at-one's-annoying-brothers position.

"Why Percy, aren't you just a little bit pleased to see us?" asked George. "It's been-"

"Before you say anything else," Percy interrupted, "you should be aware that I already know about that ridiculous letter you sent to Oliver." Ha, thought Percy.

Fred and George exchanged a look. "Really?" said George.

"He showed it to you?" asked Fred.

"Of course he did," Percy replied automatically. 

"Of course he did, George!" Fred turned to his brother with an obviously feigned expression of amazement.

"Gee," said George. "Is he coming to dinner?"

"Actually, he is, but-"

"He _is coming, George!" exclaimed Fred. "Isn't that cute?"_

"That's not what it's like!" Percy was beginning to get the feeling that he was loosing control of the conversation.

"Sure, Percy," George said, patting him condescendingly on the shoulder. 

Percy looked down at his brother's hand; his face turned to stone. Percy felt something snap inside. Suddenly, Percy had enough- enough of the manipulation, enough of the embarrassment, and especially enough of "Sure, Percy". His fists clenched.

"That is it." Percy said in a slow, deadly voice. "I have had it." Fred and George remained silent. 

"I am sick and tired of you two thinking you know what's best for me, and whom I should date. Just because we're related doesn't give you the right to interfere with my life. And you certainly don't have the right to interfere with Oliver's! " Percy could feel weeks of frustration and tension pouring out of his mouth. "And the whole reason you're even bothering isn't because you actually care, it's because you have nothing better to do for entertainment than to humiliate me!" This wasn't exactly fair, and Percy knew it, but he was on a roll.

"Hi, Percy," said Oliver, who'd entered the kitchen sometime during Percy's rant.

"Hi, Oliver." Percy looked over. Oliver was leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen, wearing a pair of jeans and a ridiculously endearing Puddlemere United polo shirt; it had bright blue and yellow horizontal stripes that were practically blinding.  Percy turned back to Fred and George, who looked surprised, if not as cowed as he'd hoped. "And if…and…" Percy had completely lost his train of thought. His eyes drifted back towards Oliver.

"Sure, Percy," said George after a moment.

"Whatever you say," said Fred. 

"We promise to behave ourselves," George said. They both looked nauseatingly angelic.

"You do," said Percy skeptically. "Right."

"Dinner, boys!" called Mrs. Weasley from the dining room. George made a beeline for the table, and Fred followed him, leaving Percy and Oliver alone in the kitchen.

"So I guess the whole 'talking to your mum' thing didn't work out," Oliver said, shooting an almost smug smile in Percy's direction.

"No," said Percy. "It didn't."

"Well then," said Oliver, "I guess there's only one thing left to do." He sighed dramatically.

"What's that?" 

"We'll have to have a June wedding, so my Aunt Florence can come down from Scotland." Oliver nodded.

"Oliver." Percy rolled his eyes.

"What do you think we should name the first kid? I've always been partial to Oliver Jr., myself."

"Oliver."

"What?"

"You're an ass. Oh," Percy added, "and your shirt is hideous, by the way." He turned to go into the living room. 

"It is not!" Oliver protested, quickly retaliating by reaching forward and ruffling Percy's hair. "Your hair is messed up, by the way," he said when Percy had stopped and turned around, mouth open in indignation.

"You have the maturity level of a five year old," Percy said as he stiffly fixed his hair.

"Thank you," said Oliver. He passed by Percy and went into the dining room.

Percy watched Oliver go with slight shake of his head. Percy was…pleased to see him. That was really the only way to explain the rush of nervous warmth he'd felt when Oliver had appeared. Percy walked into the dining room; his hair was still a little mussed. 

Fred and George noticed. 

Fred even mouthed, "Hey, hey," at Oliver. Oliver flicked a pea at him; Percy stifled a smile.

And as the family chatted over dinner, Percy managed the keep the smile off his face, but couldn't quite keep it from his eyes, which rested on Oliver more often than not. 

Fred and George noticed again.

Dinner passed quickly. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley sat at the ends of the table, with Fred and George on one side and Percy and Oliver on the other.  

Fred and George bolted down their food, as usual. Ms. Weasley offered Percy seconds three times, making comments about how starved he must be and how he must miss home-cooked meals, as usual. Mr. Weasley talked a great deal about the latest incident at work, as usual (this time, a Muggle family had somehow purchased an enchanted toaster, which had gone berserk and started shooting bits of flaming bread at the family cat). 

What was unusual was that during Mr. Weasley's story, Fred and George, who finished eating long before anyone else, began staring at Percy and Oliver.

They didn't talk (also unusual), just stared.

It was dashed uncomfortable.

"What?" Percy mouthed at them irritably.

Fred glanced at Oliver, back to Percy, and raised his eyebrows very slowly. Twice.

A pea hit Fred smack on the nose. Fred glared at Oliver, who was innocently eating some mashed potatoes. Fred returned to staring with an even more concentrated effort. Percy could feel himself starting to blush, which was just silly.

"Fred! George! What on earth are you about? Have your eyelids been glued open?" Molly was looking at them suspiciously over a forkful of chicken.

"No, mum!" they chorused.

And dinner went on. 

Then, in a momentary lull in the conversation, George turned to Oliver. 

"So Oliver, do you have a boyfriend?"

The twins were really rather sadistic.

Percy couldn't seem to stop his head from snapping to the left. 

Oliver shot a puzzled look at the twins. "No," he replied then went back to his food- but for some reason, for just an instant, his eyes met Percy's on the way back to his plate.

Percy was unprepared for the wave of confusion that assaulted him. It was not a feeling he particularly enjoyed. 

Why did-?

What did that mean? 

His brain began running a mile a minute, stuck in one place.

Why did it matter if Oliver had a boyfriend? 

Percy had the feeling he didn't want to know the answer to that question.

Still blushing terribly, Percy frowned at his dinner and tried desperately not to think about it. 

During dessert, though, it all became clear.

"Lovely pudding, Mrs. Weasley," Oliver said between bites.  Molly beamed at him.

"Why thank you, Oliver. What lovely manners you have."

"Oh. Well, I was just-"

"You could learn a thing or two from him, boys." Mrs. Weasley glared at the twins. 

"Yes, mum," they chorused again. Fred stuck his tongue out at Oliver when Mrs. Weasley wasn't looking.

"Fred!" 

Oops.

Percy took a bite of his pudding but he didn't taste it. 

Maybe he was coming down with something. That could explain it. 

"We're just friends," he muttered to himself. Damn. It didn't even sound convincing.

"What was that?" Oliver was looking at him.

"Nothing," he said quickly. "Nothing."  Percy flashed a quick smile at Oliver and almost managed to look away. But-

There was a tiny eyelash resting just below Oliver's eye. Just below Oliver's brown eyes which were exactly the same color as his hair except that Oliver's hair had a bit more red in it.

"Oh- Oliver, you have an eyelash on your…" Percy pointed to his cheek. "Right, um, no, over- here." 

He never knew what crazed impulse made him reach forward and brush his thumb over Oliver's cheek. But when he pulled his hand away, the sensation of Oliver's skin still tingling on the pad of his thumb, Percy knew. 

With a sickening snap of clarity, he knew.

He wanted Fred and George to be right. He wanted them to be right about the date, and all the raised eyebrows, and the "sure you're just friends". He wanted them to be right about everything.

And when Oliver said, "Thanks," and smiled at him Percy realized it was possibly even worse than that. 

 Dear. God.

 "You know, Percy, if you keep your mouth open like that something unpleasant is bound to fly in there." George was grinning at him.

The spoon in Percy's right hand clattered to the table.

Oh. 

"Are you okay, Perce?" Oliver asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

"Um…yes. Yes." 

And it was wonderful and awful at the same time and somehow _more_ than anything else he'd ever felt and he knew he was turning beet red again and he didn't care this time and the only stupid thought that popped into his head was:

That's the first time he's ever called me that.


	7. In Which Almost Everything is All Wrappe...

The Blind Date- Chapter Seven

Warning/Disclaimers: See Chapter One.

A/N: I'd like to officially dedicate this to Meg, Molly and Lini. Because without them, I'd never have come close to finishing this. They were there to beta, cheerlead, and, when necessary, drag this fic, kicking and screaming, outta me. Thanks guys. Nothin' but love.

Oh, and sorry this part took so long. Really really really sorry. I suck. :)

The important thing, Percy decided, was to maintain normalcy. So he left the office that Tuesday at exactly 7:00. Once in his flat, he set his briefcase down just where he normally did. Percy got a glass of water. He did some work. He got another glass of water. He read a book. All in all, it was a normal evening at home. Except for the tiny little fact that he had inconveniently fallen for his closest friend.

But still normal. Very, very normal. Percy exhaled.

Oh, God. How had this happened? Why had this happened?Why? Why? Why-

Percy took a strangled breath. Everything was fine. Fine. It would be fine. Even if he had spent all of Monday in a kind of daze, to the point where he got nothing done at all (well not _nothing_- compromised as he was, Percy wasn't completely useless). Mabel had asked him four times today alone if he was okay. (As though he would tell the nosy little witchanything.)

Personally, Percy wasn't okay. He felt like he wanted to fly and vomit at the same time. Dreadful.

Percy wasn't planning on acting on his...feelings, or whatever you wanted to call it. In fact, he was going to file it away in the back of his mind along with all the other things he wasn't telling people (especially Mabel). "I fancy Oliver Wood" was right behind "I'm gay" and "I used to sleep with a stuffed teddy bear named Edwin".

The only thing to do now, though, was to get rid of it. Maybe if he wanted it badly enough he would never have to feel that tiny, aching jolt every time Oliver so much as looked at him again.

Of course, as Percy well knew, just wanting something seldom accomplished anything. Percy had, therefore, taken steps. He had compiled a list in his head, entitled "Reasons Not to Fancy Oliver Wood."

The problem was that the entire list had been full of irritating things like, "He has no respect for Nerian cauldrons and falls asleep during lectures on them," which ended up making Percy smile and only had the opposite intended effect.

The only useful reason he'd come up with so far was that it would prove Fred and George right. Damn them.

Percy sighed, picked up a book from the coffee table, and tried reading it again. Focus this time.

Percy's fingers twitched on the spine of the book.

No. He needed to _do_ something or he was going to go crazy.

After cleaning his flat (twice), Percy sat back on the sofa, attempting to bask in the satisfaction of its cleanliness. Basking proved to be a little difficult, though, when certain thoughts keep sneaking up on him from behind. Thoughts like _I wonder what Oliver is doing now?_ and _I wonder what he meant when he said that before? _which he tried to brush away, and the especially treacherous _Would it be impolite to show up at Oliver's flat uninvited provided that once there I snog him within an inch of his life? _(Percy was forced to brain that particular thought with a blunt object and sweep it under the rug next to the file cabinet with things he wasn't telling people).

Percy frowned. There was now a rug next to the file cabinet in his mental landscape.

He needed a cup of tea.

Percy went over to the stove, deep in thought. Hopefully he would be able to get himself under control before he saw Oliver again. (There had to be a point when he got used to this, right?)

There was a knock on the door.

Because if Percy saw Oliver anytime soon, he was bound to do something really embarrassing.

Which was why, of course, Oliver was standing in the doorway. "Hi-"

Percy let out a sort of yelp and slammed the door shut.

Embarrassing. Just like that.

Okay. Everything was fine. His mind, distracted as it was, had clearly hallucinated Oliver. In fact, he had probably just made an ass of himself to some little girl selling Witch Scout cookies. Right.

He should probably check to be sure. Percy peered out his door and blinked once.

Nope. Still there. "I...um-" Since when did Oliver wear nice sweaters that? Oliver had always been the annoying type of person, even back at Hogwarts, who put no effort into his appearance at all, yet managed to be bloody gorgeous anyway. And now he looked really nice-

Percy, his brain commented, you do realize that you've been standing there not saying anything? Mooning away?

_Ahem?_

"Could you hold on a second?" Percy shut the door again.

Crap, crap, crap.

Percy resisted the urge to bang his head on the door and viciously tried to wrench his mind back to order.

Eventually, after several deep breaths, he settled for an orderly facial expression.

Percy opened the door. "Hello. Again. Sorry about that. My hand...slipped." Oh, that was smooth. "No. I mean, I just put the kettle on. Very delicate stage and all that."

"Ah." Oliver's mouth twitched.

Go away, go away, go away. "Come in." Go away.

He watched Oliver wander over to the kitchen; Percy remained in the safety of the other side of the room.

Oliver idly picked up the spoon Percy had gotten out for the tea. He began twirling it between his fingers in a rapid, almost nervous motion.

_I wonder what else he can do with that hand? Shut up_, Percy thought, watching the back of Oliver as he fiddled around the kitchen for a few moments. Percy was completely unprepared when Oliver seemed to remember himself and whipped around.

"Right. So. Do you want to get a bite to eat, maybe? I know this little Indian place on Wyndham Ave that's got great butter chicken and I'm starving." There was something about the way Oliver couldn't quite me his eyes and the tiny little shrug of his that made Percy take a step away and blurt,

"I can't," before he even realized that he'd said anything. Oliver looked practically crestfallen. Percy felt like the worst person that had ever lived. "No. I mean, I was going to just cook something here. If you'd like to join me..." He was going to cook? Where had that come from?

"Sure." And just like that Oliver brightened and began rooting around in Percy's fridge. "What were you going to make?"

What _was_ he going to make? "Chicken a la King," Percy answered inexplicably.

Oliver emerged from the fridge victorious, clutching a bottle of butterbeer. "You know how to make that?" Oliver asked.

_Did_ he know to make that? "Of course." Thank goodness for that cookbook mum had given him when he'd moved out.

Oliver smiled; Percy reminded himself that this would all be okay if he kept a respectable distance. From Oliver, and that mouth of his. "Can I help?"

Tense though he was, Percy couldn't quite contain the skeptical look on his face.

"What? What is it?"

"Oliver. I was your partner in Potions for one whole year." Percy shied closer. Oliver was still approximately two meters away.

"So what?"

"The Shrinking Potion? You adding the dragonfly wings at the wrong time? The potion exploding all over Snape? His head- just his head- shrinking?" Percy was still a little mad about that. Enough that he almost forgot about being freaked out. For about a second.

When Oliver took a step toward him, Percy was just barely able to keep from flinching. "For your information, Percy, that potion didn't just explode," Oliver said quietly.

"Oh?"

"No." Oliver crossed his arms. "It turned pink, made some odd noises, the cauldron fell over and _then_ it exploded. Get it right," he admonished with a smile. "I can't believe you're still holding that against me," Oliver added.

"That was the only 'F' I ever got at school, Oliver. It sticks in my mind." Hey- that sounded normal. He could do this.

"Oh, and what was your final grade that year?" Why did Oliver keep coming closer? Why?

Percy muttered something.

"Hmm? What was that, Perce? I didn't hear that." How the hell was the "avoid Oliver and when you can't, stay at least five feet away from him" plan supposed to work when Oliver kept coming closer???

"An 'A-'," Percy said.

There was silence.

"You know what that sound was, Perce?" Oliver asked. "That was the sound of my heart weeping for you."

"Well, it was an A _minus_," said Percy.

"I'm impressed you didn't chuck yourself out the owlery window." Oliver cocked his head. Why did Oliver have to _lean_ toward him when he talked, so that Percy could smell his aftershave? It was like those magnets he'd learned about in Muggle Studies. If he got too close he'd be pulled in by the electromagnetic force of Oliver's smell and that smile on that thrice damned mouth of his until there'd be nothing he could do to stop himself. Just like magnets.

Merlin. He really was losing his mind, wasn't he?

"Besides, just because I was crap at potions doesn't mean I can't cook."

"Really?" Doubtful. That was the way he'd normally sound. Right?

"Yeah." Oliver returned confidently. "I can make...pasta, and stuff. Besides, that whole Snape midget head thing was your fault, anyway," Oliver said, gesturing vaguely.

"It was not," Percy retorted automatically.

"It was. You were being an insane control freak and you wouldn't let me do anything." Percy remembered it now- Oliver had grabbed for the pile of dragonfly wings to chop them up; Percy had grabbed them back. The tug of war that followed ended up dumping them into the cauldron at exactly the wrong time. So maybe it hadn't been _exactly_ Oliver's fault, but...

Percy opened his mouth, shut it, and finally said, "It was a complicated potion and..."

"I'm thick as a brick when it comes to anything that doesn't involve Quidditch." Oliver finished. He gave Percy a grim smile.

Percy hated his mouth. He _knew _Oliver was touchy about that. Percy grabbed his arm. (Okay, so apparently the "avoid Oliver and if you can't stay at least five feet away from him **especially** don't touch him, you idiot" plan was out the window.) "I...you aren't...I didn't mean it like that. You aren't stupid, Oliver." It was vitally important to Percy that Oliver believed him.

Oliver sighed. "I know you didn't. It's just...never mind."

Percy never knew what to say in these situations. "Well. I'm sorry I used to be such a pretentious prat." There was an opening even Percy could spot.

"Who said anything about used to be?" Oliver smiled just the tiniest fraction.

Percy, his brain asked, why is you hand still on his arm? Run away.

Percy pressed his lips together, took a mental breath and marched right past Oliver to the counter. He found the cookbook and opened it. "Here," he said. He briskly handed Oliver a wooden spoon. "What? You are going to help me, aren't you?"

"Oh. Yeah."

"After the mixing spell is finished you can put them on the sheet and bake them. And make sure you don't-"

"Percy."

"Right."

Percy was the type of cook who put the ingredients back in the cupboard right after he used them, making clean up easier. Oliver was the type of cook who managed to get flour on his sweater five seconds in. At least he seemed to have cheered up some.

Percy discovered that he could barely cut up a carrot properly with Oliver standing next to him.

This was terrible. He couldn't function at all.

Percy chopped the carrot in front of him into a pulp before he realized it.

Oliver was humming. Off key, Percy noted. Oliver began glopping biscuit dough on Percy's _Magic_ _Chef_ baking sheet. Percy couldn't keep from shooting pained glances in Oliver's direction. He almost said something, but changed his mind and went back to beating his carrots into dust.

Percy could see Oliver's smile out of the corner of his eye. "I bet this is driving you absolutely crazy, isn't it, Perce?" Oliver finally said.

"It isn't." Percy said, frowning at his mutilated carrots.

"You mean the fact that I'm not spacing them evenly apart in perfect rows doesn't make you nutters?"

"Of course it doesn't." Percy flashed Oliver a convincing smile.

"Okay. Good," Oliver said cheerfully. He went back to glopping. "See? It looks like a smiley face," he said gleefully.

There were tiny bits of dough trailing all over the baking sheet. "That's nice," Percy said.

"I think so too." Oliver's grin reached blindingly sunny proportions.

Percy put down his knife. Despite himself, Percy smiled for the first time that night. "You're quite easily amused, aren't you?

"Bugging you, Percy, is always entertaining. Besides, it takes so little effort." Oliver slung a friendly arm over Percy's shoulders.

A sharp intake of breath was Percy's only response for a second. "I just have to put the final spell on the...on the thing, so why don't you cook the biscuits? Here's the spell for it," he said, sliding his cookbook over and stepping away.

"Right then. I can do that," Oliver said. He rubbed his hands together and eyed the sheet. "Nothing to this cooking thing."

* * *

The kitchen looked like the inside of a Chicken a la King. A Chicken a la King in a blender.

So maybe there was more to this cooking thing than he'd thought.

He hadn't _meant_ to burn his hand on the baking sheet (that thing should come with a warning label) or to jump and run into Percy right when he was in the middle of some complicated final spell thing that might have gone just the tiniest bit wrong.

Which might have caused the kitchen to explode.

Which might have covered Percy from head to toe in flour and bits of vegetables.

Oliver had avoided the onslaught, thanks to his finely honed, superior Quidditch reflexes. He was currently crouched behind Percy; his hands on Percy's shoulders, his eyes squished shut. After the dust settled, Oliver peeked to survey the wreckage.

"Oliver. What are you doing?" Percy asked. The words were quiet and almost strangled.

Oliver ducked back down and pressed his forehead to Percy's back. "Using you as a human shield?"

"I see." It sounded like acid dripping from Percy's mouth.

Oliver straightened up again, but he left his hands on Percy's tense, almost-shaking shoulders. For one second, Oliver thought that maybe Percy had grown a sense of humor and was actually laughing about it; until Percy whipped around, that is.

He wasn't laughing. He looked more murderous than amused, really. Kind of like a temperamental hippogriff with ruffled feathers. When Percy took in a breath- no doubt to start yelling- Oliver had no choice but to pull out the "You can't be mad at me- I'm cute and adorable and it wasn't my fault and besides I burned my hand. Owwie." look.

"I'm not falling for that," Percy snapped. "I...You...This really isn't fair." Percy deflated, looking down at himself.

"What?"

"Nothing." Percy shook his head. "It's just...why does this always happen whenever I'm around you? Every single time! I'm either publicly embarrassed or starkers or something and you just take it so calmly! How do you do that? It's- ack!"

Percy had taken a step to the side, only to slip on puddle of biscuit goo and go crashing forward into Oliver.

"See what I mean? Every time," Percy muttered into Oliver's shoulder. He sounded so resigned and put-out that Oliver couldn't help smiling. Oliver didn't even notice when his arms slipped around Percy's waist as if they'd always belonged there; as they'd never really belonged anywhere else.

Percy made a noise and relaxed into him. Oliver swallowed. He couldn't seem to let go.

And if Percy would just stay...

Percy lifted his head up. There was a strange ache in his eyes and a speck of flour nestled in the freckles on his nose.

"Hmm," murmured Percy.

Oliver could feel his heart climbing into his throat. "What?" he asked.

Without saying a word, Percy reached into his hair and smeared Chicken a la King down the front of Oliver's sweater. Percy smiled.

Oliver chuckled sounded a little forced. He raised an eyebrow. "Do you feel better now?"

Oliver could almost hear Percy's eyes open wider. Percy felt like a mass of awkward angles for just a second before he pulled away.

"Um. I'm going to go take a shower," Percy said.

Witches and Wizards, please run, do not walk, to the nearest exit. "Right," said Oliver. Thinking about Percy in the shower was a bad idea, he told himself. Bad, bad, bad- oh hell.

* * *

One shower and a drying spell later, Percy emerged from the bathroom to find Oliver sprawled over the sofa, looking completely at home on it. Percy watched him from the doorway. Unfortunately, the shower had done nothing to clean the confusion from his head. Percy could feel his self-control chipping away every time Oliver so much as touched him. If Oliver kept it up for much longer, Percy knew, with a horrifying certainty, that he would jump the poor sod before he could stop himself. Whoopsie, I apologize Oliver, I didn't intend to snog you. It was an accident. I tripped.

It had been such a long time since anyone had held him like that.

Percy shook that thought away just as Oliver turned on the couch to face him. "I cleaned up the...kitchen," Oliver said; his face changed in a way that was difficult to determine. "Nice pajamas."

"Oh." Percy was barefoot and wearing a pair of navy blue silk pajamas. "Thanks. They were a Christmas present from myself last year. A little expensive, but..." He shrugged.

Percy toed the ground. Why was Oliver still looking at him like that?

"Oh. Right. I completely forgot to tell you." Oliver settled into the couch, a secret smile on his face.

Percy waited.

"Well? What is it?" Percy asked.

Oliver smiled some more. "Guess."

Percy took a few careful steps closer to the couch. "I'm terrible at guessing. Why don't you just tell me?"

"No."

"Hmm." Percy put both hands on the arm of the couch, so that he was leaning over Oliver's head. "You forgot to take your shoes off before putting your feet all over my sofa?"

Oliver stuck his tongue out. "No. I didn't forget. This is just to annoy you." Oliver wiggled his feet smugly. "Quite frankly, you're lucky I put a cleaning spell on my sweater before I sat down on your precious sofa."

Percy smiled to himself. He _could_ do this. It was easy to slip back into being friends with Oliver, even though Oliver made it so easy to pretend that maybe...

"Guess again."

Percy put his elbows the sofa arm and leaned down until he could smell Oliver's shampoo. "Could it be that you finally agree with me that running is the sport of Satan?"

Oliver made a face, which looked especially funny upside down. "No. And don't hold your breath on that one, Perce. Here." Oliver pulled a ticket out of his pocket and handed it to Percy.

Percy turned it around. "It's the opening game of the season," he said with a smile.

"This Friday, at 8:00. It's against the Wimborne Wasps but we're sure to win. You'll come?" Oliver sat up again and twisted around. "And before you say that you have work, this _is_ my first season off the reserves and it would mean a lot to me if you were there and if you say no I'll be forced to kidnap you and tie you to a seat and I don't think-"

"Oliver! Of course I'll go." said Percy. A warm sleepy feeling had wrapped around him like covers on a really cold winter morning. It would mean a lot to Oliver, would it?"I mean, I wouldn't want you to tie me up or anything," he said. Percy winced. "That's not-"

"Good," said Oliver; he took a breath and settled back down on the couch, amused.

"On one condition," Percy amended.

Oliver titled his head back. "What?"

"Take your bloody shoes off my sofa."

Oliver smirked and crossed one leg over the other. "Make me." So that's how it was going to be, was it?Oliver clearly didn't think Percy was going anywhere near him.

"Fine then." Percy, all-business, walked over to the front of the couch, sat down on Oliver's stomach and had his shoes off and neatly placed by the sofa before Oliver could make more than a huffed choking sound. Percy did his best not to look too smug.

"Nice," said Oliver.

Percy blinked. Why did he keep doing this? No matter how...friendly Oliver might be, there was no appropriate explanation for sitting on him. The warm fuzzy feeling evaporated instantly.

"Sorry," Percy muttered, and started to get up.

Oliver put a hand on his arm. "Percy."

Percy forced himself to look at Oliver. "What- what? What is it?" Oliver was staring at him strangely.

Oliver's voice came out so low it was hard to hear him. "You didn't think I'd let you get away with that, did you?"

It took almost all the strength Percy had to repress a shiver.

* * *

"St-stop that at once," Percy stammered.

Tickling Percy was addictive, Oliver decided. Percy was clearly trying hard to remain impassive and dignified, but he was also squirming with almost-silent laughter. It put the funniest expression on his face. Oliver smirked.

Then, just asOliver finally got through the layers of clothes to Percy's sides, Percy made a noise in the back of his throat that sounded so much like something else that Oliver's hands stilled.

That was his fatal mistake. Before he knew it, Oliver found himself trapped flat on his back on the sofa. Percy, victorious, was sitting on top of his stomach again calmly reading a book.

"Perce?" Oliver asked.

Percy made a little noise and turned a page.

"If you're going to keep sitting on me all the time, I think you should consider cutting back on the scones for breakfast."

Percy whacked him and went back to his book.

"Perce?" he asked a bit later.

"What?"

"You're not going to get off me, are you?"

Percy looked up as if to consider the question. "No," he said, and started reading again. Percy's left hand settled on Oliver's chest. Oliver could feel the warmth of it all the way through his sweater.

There was something nice about just lying on Percy's couch watching him read. Percy seemed relaxed for a change.

Oliver had come to terms with the fact that he wanted Percy. He had come to terms with the fact that he _really_ wanted Percy. That he could barely keep his hands off him.

He also knew that doing anything about it would be wrong- and what's more, damn stupid (not that that had normally stopped him in the past). The problem was that Percy unwittingly kept doing things that made it impossible to think about that (or anything else). Like right now, biting his lip when he read.

"What are you reading?" Oliver asked to distract himself.

"A book." Percy did that almost-smirk thing.

"I know _that_. What kind of book?" Oliver pulled his hands from behind his head and put them on his chest, right next to Percy's hand.

"It's _Muggles and the Wizarding World: a Brief History_," Percy replied.

"Eck." Oliver looked down. Their pinkies were almost touching.

"What? It behooves everyone to be informed about our relationship with the Muggle world. Besides, it has a bit about the Floo Network and Muggle fireplaces that I need for work. It's not as though I only read things for the Ministry," Percy added at the look Oliver gave him. "I have other books. Biographies of famous wizards and things like that."

"Can I see it?" Oliver poked Percy.

"No. Stop distracting me." Oliver could see Percy's almost-smile peaking out from behind the pages.

Percy went back to reading and biting his lip. Oliver began to feel twitchy. "I can't breathe," Oliver lied after a bit.

"Right," said Percy.

Oliver coughed. Nothing. He let out a pathetic wheeze.

Percy turned a page, not even moving his head. "Nice try."

"I had no idea you were so heartless." Oliver did his best to look like a kicked kneazle.

"I may be heartless, but you are lumpy," Percy pronounced, and he shifted. Oliver's eyes widened.

Oh crap. Oh crap oh crap oh crap.

Percy _needed_ to stop moving. He _really_ needed to get off him right now, because if he didn't Oliver's body would see to it that Oliver had no secrets left.

Sorry, Perce. "Heh. Lumpy? Really?" Oliver sat up abruptly.

"Hey!" Percy toppled off him and landed in an indignant heap on the carpet. He crossed his arms and turned to Oliver, glaring. "Excuse me. What was that for?"

Oliver leaned forward on his elbow. "Sorry. My legs slipped," Oliver said with what he hoped was an apologetic smile. Percy watched him.

Percy finally sighed, smoothed his hair- the first thing Percy always fixed whenever he got ruffled, regardless of whether it was messy or not- picked up his book again, and leaned back against the sofa so that his head rested against Oliver's leg. The room felt very still.

Oliver's hand found its way to Percy's head. He felt Percy sit straight up. Hmm.

Oliver's hand scraped all the way through the copper hair, from the nape of Percy's neck to Percy's forehead. After a stiff second, Percy let out something like a sigh he was trying to keep to himself. He settled back against Oliver's leg.

Soon Oliver was idly running his fingers through Percy's hair.

"Hey Perce." Oliver's voice sounded strange coming out of the silence.

"Mmm?" Percy said. His hair felt really soft.

"Do you want to go out with the team after the game on Friday?"

"If you want me to come," said Percy. He sounded hesitant.

Oliver gave Percy's head a gentle shake. "Of course I want you there, you prat. After all, Perce, you're my best friend, which means you're not allowed to let me face that lot by myself. You're duty bound to go." Oliver could feel Percy's smile though he couldn't see it.

"Well when you put it like that," Percy said, and he almost managed to sound grudging.

"Good," said Oliver, and he returned to the soothing perusal of Percy's hair.

The room slipped into silence again; Oliver was nearly asleep himself when Percy spoke.

"Oliver?"

"What?" Oliver murmured and looked down. Percy had pulled the ticket for the game out.

"I- This might possibly sound like a stupid question. Why are so obsessed with Quidditch?"

Oliver hand stilled. "You mean, why do I play Quidditch?"

"Not exactly." There was a pause. "I know it's a big part of your life, but you-"

Oliver sat up at little. "Oh. You mean, why do I never shut up about it? This from the bloke who could go on for hours about the International Floo Network." Oliver muttered fondly.

"I don't- you should have said something if I was being overly effusive," Percy put in, looking embarrassed. "It's just, it's the first _real_ project they've ever given me and...I need it to go well, I suppose. I didn't mean to talk your ear off."

"Shut it. You're not boring, so don't try to convince me."

Percy blushed. "So Quidditch...?"

"I guess...I guess it's because Quidditch is the only thing I've ever been good at. Really good at, even though I have to work my arse off. Everything else I seem to...I don't know." Oliver raked a hand through his hair and gave an off-handed shrug.

"I know what you mean." And Percy actually did, Oliver could tell. Percy put his head back against Oliver's leg.

"That, and flying is the best damn feeling in world."

"Really?" Percy sounded...wistful, Oliver realized sadly. He probably had no idea what that was like.

"Yeah. Just about."

Percy titled his head, revealing the freckled column of his throat. When Oliver's hand fell back into Percy's hair, he couldn't resist running his thumb over that soft spot beneath Percy's jaw. Percy closed his eyes and made a soft noise. Oliver wondered what sort of noise Percy would make if he put his mouth there and sucked at it.

Right, he reminded himself. And how would you explain that? Sorry, Perce. Didn't mean to give you a hickey. It was an accident. I tripped.

What the hell was he doing? Oliver ripped his hand away and sat up a little.

Percy stirred and shook his head. "Wow it's late," Percy muttered. "Oliver?"

"What?" Oliver blinked.

"It's late," Percy said again. He stood up and faced Oliver.

He looked so-

Merlin this was frustrating. Oliver hated this. He hated having to stop himself from going after something he wanted. Sure once in a while that kind of thing backfired, but when that (ever so rarely) occurred, Oliver could deal with it. In fact, Oliver prided himself on dealing with failure in a very mature, positive fashion. (Just ask his teammates. He was the picture of sportsmanlike behavior. He _was._) This, though- it was like forfeiting a game before you even hit the Quidditch pitch. You just didn't _do_ that.

Right then, Oliver knew he what he _was_ going to do.

"What?"

"I'm going to bed now," Percy explained.

Which means I get to come, too? He almost said it aloud.

"Which means you have to go home. You do have your own flat, right?"

"Yeah," Oliver replied. It was the best comeback he had, because his hands were already itching toward Percy and it was hard to tear his gaze away from Percy's mouth.

Percy grabbed onto Oliver's hand to haul him up from the sofa.

When Oliver stood up, he was standing flush against Percy. Very close, and still holding on to his hand.

Percy's glasses weren't quite on straight. But it was the eyes behind them that did it.

This time he wasn't drunk, and there was no Fred and George to interrupt things and keep him from what he wanted. And right then, Oliver wanted nothing more than to kiss Percy until those damned glasses of his steamed up. His hand tightened around Percy's.

When he leaned forward it felt kind of like vertigo.

Only Percy was stepping away; Percy dropped his hand like it was fire. "Well...goodnight Oliver. Don't bother locking the door, okay?" Percy was nothing but a pair of tense shoulders and eyes that wouldn't meet his.

"Right," Oliver said. He was so stupid sometimes.

"I will see you on Friday, right?" Percy flashed him a panicked, earnest smile and practically bolted away.

He stood there, his hand still reaching out to where Percy had been, and the only consolation Oliver had was that voice of sick satisfaction in his head, whispering, 'You must have seen this coming. I did.'

"Right." Oliver swallowed and apparated home.

That was that.

Hey- no big deal, really. It's not like he'd never been shot down before (Oliver was forced to acknowledge that _one_ other time back in school). He'd get over it. He'd get over it. Oliver crawled into bed and wondered how just badly he had fucked everything up.

It didn't even make sense- he'd actually kissed Percy before and nothing this horrible had happened.

It wasn't until two hours later, when the look on Percy's face wouldn't go away, when he still felt so awful that everything, from deep in his chest to the tips of his fingers, hurt in a way that made him want to curl up into a ball and never get out of bed again, that it hit Oliver.

He jolted up.

Not only had he been rejected, he'd been horribly rejected by someone he was arse over elbow in love with.

"Crap," whined Oliver, flipping over and burying his face back in his pillow. He was never getting out of bed again. Never never never.

* * *

It was 9:00 on Tuesday and _Weasley Wizard Wheezes _had just closed. Fred and George were in the process of closing when a silhouette appeared in the window. A stiff-shouldered silhouette that looked rather pissed off.

"We're closed," Fred called and turned around to pick up his coat.

The door slammed open with a crash.

Fred and George whirled around. A finger moved into the light, pointing menacingly toward the twins.

"You," Percy said, stepping forward.

Fred and George took a step back.

"You..." Percy said.

"Yes George, what did you do to poor Percy?" Fred asked. "He seems rather distressed."

Percy's hand clenched into a fist.

Fred and George stepped back again, putting the counter between them and their brother.

"Hello sir, and welcome to _Weasley Wizard Wheezes_. How can we help you?" Fred asked.

"Fizzing Whizbee?" George offered.

"You..." Percy said again. He was beginning to sound hysterical.

"Fred," George whispered, keeping his eyes fixed warily on Percy.

"What?" Fred whispered back.

"I think Percy's finally gone 'round the bend."

"I have not!" Percy exclaimed, finally recovering his vocabulary. "Wait- here." Percy reached into his bag and smacked a scroll down on the counter. "Look at that."

Fred unrolled it. "What? It's blank."

"Exactly. Do you know what that was supposed to be?" Percy crossed his arms.

"A letter confessing you undying love for Oliver?" George asked.

The look Percy shot him could have withered any number of hearty houseplants. "No. It was supposed to be a report on the potential long-term effects of restructuring the International Floo Network."

"Ah," said Fred.

"Do you know why it's blank?" Percy asked, tilting his chin up and looking down his nose at the twins.

"I'm going to take a wild guess and say it has something to do with us," George said.

"And you'd be right!" Percy snapped. "I can't get anything done, I can't focus at work, I can't sleep, and it's entirely your fault." Percy snatched the scroll back and stuffed it into his bag. "It's unacceptable! And none of this ever would have happened if you two bloody idiots hadn't set me up with Oliver!" Percy began pacing back and forth in front of the counter.

Fred and George shared a look. Of course. It made perfect sense. Now that he had finally fallen off ye old pedestal of repression, of course Percy was going to go completely bonkers.

"What are you talking about, Percy?" Fred asked with his patented 'what did I do?' expression.

Percy glared at them. "You know perfectly well what I mean," he said.

"Percy. Why don't you stop, think about what you just said, and explain it again for those of us fortunate enough not to live inside your head," Fred said.

"Oh shut up!" Percy snapped, tense and fidgeting. "This is completely ridiculous-"

"This?" Fred prompted in mock-puzzlement.

"I...How did I let this happen?" Percy sank down onto a stool in front of the counter. He ran a hand through his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "I am completely out of my depth here, and now he thinks-" Percy broke off and slumped over. "I hate this," he muttered to the countertop.

"This being...?" Fred asked.

"I wish I drank," Percy muttered.

"Um. I wish you did too," said George. He pulled a chair up to the counter.

Percy snorted. He looked up. "Don't you understand? I...like Oliver!"

"So what's wrong?" George said slowly.

Percy leaned forward. In a desperate confidential tone he hissed, "I think he might like me back!"

"'Like you back?' Percy, what are you, twelve?" Fred rolled his eyes.

"Then what's the problem?" George looked very puzzled.

"What's the problem??" Percy was getting hysterical again.

"'He might like me back'," Fred muttered, shaking his head.

"I almost think you'd rather Oliver didn't." George was looking at him strangely.

"Of course I'd prefer it!" Percy snapped. "I was entirely prepared to wait until my- my feelings or what have you went away; I could have lived with that. Probably. But no. He has to go and try to- and like me back, shut up Fred, don't even say anything." Percy looked very disgruntled.

"Percy, you do realize that you're completely mad?" George said.

"And I wanted him to- God, I really really wanted him to, but he wasn't supposed to actually try and do it! And now he probably thinks that I hate him."

"Hmm. Lost you again, Percy," said George.

"The point is that I'm a moron," said Percy.

"Okay. Can you tell us something that's not obvious?" asked Fred.

Percy glared.

"Sorry. Couldn't help that one."

Percy sighed, dropped his head to the counter and began picking at the surface. He said something very quietly.

"What was that?" asked George.

Percy gritted his teeth and muttered something again.

"What?" Fred asked.

"What am I supposed to do?" Percy finally snapped, red-faced.

The twins looked at each other.

"My god. I think I need to sit down." Fred stumbled over to a stool.

"Percy actually coming to us for advice." George blinked.

"I thought this day would never come." Fred wiped away a tear.

"Jeez, you must be really desperate, eh Percy?"

Percy's jaw clenched.

George's expression softened. "Fine. I'm going to tell you something, Perce." He moved around the counter and clapped a hand on Percy's shoulder. "Now this isn't going to be easy. It's not going to be pleasant. You may or may not come out alive. But unfortunately, it's the only option that I think is going to work."

Percy eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Tell him how you feel, doofus!" George mussed Percy's hair and moved away.

"But don't use the phrase 'I like you back,'" Fred said.

"I..." Percy turned to George. George nodded grimly.

Percy fixed his hair. Percy stared at the counter again. He looked at Fred. Then back at George. And finally, without saying a word, he got up and left the shop.

When the door jangled shut, Fred's gaze flicked sideways to his brother. "You think he's actually going to do it?"

George eyed the door. "No way in hell."

* * *

The first game of the season started in an hour; Oliver felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and nerves coursing through him. He tried for the third time to clear his mind and focus on the game. He shook out his shoulders, twisted his head, and then frowned at himself locker room mirror.

He'd told himself a thousand times before that Percy didn't think of him that way. Oliver snorted. Yeah, but he hadn't actually _believed_ it. Come on. He'd been sure in his gut that Percy was interested in him.

Unfortunately, the expression on Percy's face back in his flat had said it all- something like, "If you come any closer I'm going to chuck my book at you and run far, far away." Oliver's jaw clenched in the mirror. He'd made a complete ass of himself. Stupid. What on earth had possessed him to do that when Percy obviously didn't want him? (Besides the obvious answer, which Oliver was _not not not _going to think about.) Oliver's reflection cocked its head.

Why didn't Percy want him, anyway? Why?

Oliver pulled his shoulders back; he flexed. He was in good shape.

Oliver tilted his chin in the mirror. He wasn't troll-ugly or anything like that. (In fact, if Oliver was going to be brutally, brutally honest, he was rather the opposite.) _And_ he played Quidditch. What? Was Percy blind or something?

Oliver put his hands on his hips and frowned again. What wasn't to like?

Oliver heard a snicker behind him.

He turned around to find Brad and Mark, his teammates, doubled over in hysterics, leaning against each other for support.

"You...you..." Brad trailed off into a low machinegun-like burst of laughter.

He'd been caught mugging in front of the mirror like some cheap model from an underwear ad.

"Shut it," Oliver said and walked past Brad, who was still laughing; Oliver shoved him against the wall. Muttering, he sat down on a bench and yanked on an arm pad.

He jerked on the other arm pad. This was him, not thinking about Percy. Take that. "Ha," Oliver huffed, to no one in particular. He swallowed.

He'd been so sure, too, at least for a moment...

Oliver ripped his robes from his locker, and began struggling into them, which was apparently a lot harder to do when you were rejected and pissed off.

There had to be some other reason...

He halted all of a sudden, his left arm tangled in the right hand sleeve.

Aha!

He hadn't even bloody tried, had he? Percy remained immune to his charms because he hadn't even turned them on.

Of course, Oliver chuckled to himself. How stupid of him.

That was all he had to do. Because when Oliver Wood set out to seduce someone, he was irresistible.

"Ha," he said. Oliver casually shrugged on his robes. He swaggered over to the mirror again. Smiled his patented smile that he liked to call "Hey."

Just as he had thought- irresistible. What the hell had he been worried about?

Oliver grabbed his broom with a vengeance, ready to grind the Wimborne Wasps into the dirt. He nodded at his reflection in the mirror as he passed.

Percy Weasley did want him- he just didn't know it yet.

* * *

Percy stood in the corridor outside the locker room waiting for Oliver after the game, feeling about as green as he must have looked. (It turned out that unfortunately he wasn't cowardly enough to bolt and find a way to avoid Oliver for the rest of his life.) Just get it over with, he thought. Just tell him and sort this whole mess out.

Of course, Oliver was probably going to be hurt or embarrassed or something, and things were bound to be awkward at first, but hopefully both he and Oliver could handle the situation in a mature fashion.

And Percy _would_ have said something, but then the doors to the locker room burst open. Oliver appeared, dominating the doorframe, his bag slung haphazardly over his shoulder. He had changed from his yellow and blue Puddlemere United Quidditch robes to the slightly less dramatic yellow and blue Puddlemere United jersey. Before Percy could even get the word "Hi" out Oliver bellowed, "We won!!" He laughed, grabbed Percy's shoulders and planted a brief, messy kiss on Percy's open mouth.

What the-

The stared at each other for a second before Oliver laughed, pulled away and seized Percy by wrist, dragging him down the corridor.

Percy stumbled after him, completely flummoxed.

"Um..." Percy stammered. Funny how that didn't sound at all like "Oliver, we need to talk."

"It was a good game, wasn't it, Perce?" Oliver slapped Percy's back.

Percy swallowed and tried to speak again. A squeaky whimper was the only sound that came out.

Oliver hauled Percy over to one of his teammates and struck up an animated conversation. Percy stood at his side and tried desperately to process.

So. That hadn't really gone the way Percy had expected it to.

The words "What the hell was that?" rattled furiously around in his head, but he couldn't for the life of him get them out. And before he knew it, Percy was wedged between Oliver and Ellen in the back booth of some random pub, right in the middle of the infamous Puddlemere Post-game Pub crawl.

The team had decided to cram themselves all around one table, which made things rather crowded. Most of Puddlemere, except for Ellen and Oliver, were well on their way to being smashed.

The members of Puddlemere United were acting...well, just like they usually did, namely, like a family of chimpanzees. They were currently in a rather heated debate over just whose fault it was the one of the Wasps' chasers had scored early on in the game.

"Percy?" A voice to his right made Percy jump. It was Ellen. Percy liked Ellen. She was the only one of Oliver's teammates who hadn't been loud or intimidating or tried to hit on him.

"So what did you think of the game?" she asked.

"Oh. It was interesting," he replied, forcefully ripping his mind away from all thoughts of Oliver and the way it had felt when...

They fell into small talk. Percy tried to ignore the way Oliver was pressed up next to him, but it was more difficult when somehow Ellen managed to turn the conversation toward Oliver.

"You know, I'm glad you're here. Between you and me, Oliver's been acting odd. Playing like the devil, but moping around all week like someone set his favorite broomstick on fire."

"Oh?" said Percy, feeling a shot of guilt run through him. He could admit it, at least to himself: he should have sorted the whole thing out days ago (hell, he never should have let Oliver leave that night) but every time he almost owled Oliver or even though about explaining things, Percy hit a wall of bone-deep terror that he couldn't get around.

"Yeah. But he seems better now," Ellen said blandly, glancing over to Oliver, still arguing with Brad and Lisa over something.

Percy was silent.

"So when did you guys first meet?" Ellen asked.

"Oh. Um...I think it was after the sorting ceremony," Percy replied. "We were both Gryffindors, so-"

"No it wasn't," Oliver said.

Percy and Ellen turned to look at him.

"No, it wasn't. It before that- in Diagon Alley. Flourish and Botts. I was waiting for my dad to buy my books. The line was really long so I went to the section with the comic books and Quidditch magazines. I grabbed a bunch of them and went over to read in a corner in the very back of the shop. I lost track of time- and then someone said, 'Excuse me. Is your name Oliver?' I looked up and there was this skinny kid with red hair and glasses too big for his face."

Percy scoffed. Even if things were uncomfortable between them, he wasn't about to let that remark pass. "They were not too big for my face."

Percy braced himself as Oliver's eyes slid over to meet his.

"They were too. You know, you look better without them anyway." Oliver mouth curved up in a way that did not make Percy's breath catch at all. No it did not.

"I do?" Percy's voice softened against his will.

"Mm-hmm. You can see your eyes."

"Oh," said Percy. He could feel himself smiling.

Someone began coughing loudly. It was Ellen, with a bland expression on her face and a hand pressed over her chest.

"My drink went down the wrong pipe," Ellen said. She feigned an expression of concern. "Oh, I'm so sorry. I wasn't disturbing you two, was I?"

"No. No, you weren't," Percy said. Nothing _was_ going on, because he and Oliver hadn't sorted about any of this.

"Anyway," Oliver continued, as though completely unaware of what had just happened, "I said, 'Yeah. What?' And Percy put his hands on his hips and said something like-"

"I think your father has been looking for you. You know, you really shouldn't have wandered off like that. He's quite worried,'" Percy said. He shook his head. "I'd completely forgotten about that."

Oliver shrugged. "Percy, alas, was even a prefect at age eleven," he said sadly. He took a gulp of his pint.

"You were probably a Quidditch maniac at birth, so don't even start," Percy shot back, relieved. This, at least, was familiar territory.

"Anyway," Oliver said, "I said thanks or something and I went back to reading. Percy started harassing me again-"

"Harassing you?"

"And finally I finished the article-"

"I was not harassing you, and you were ignoring me." Percy crossed his arms.

Oliver smiled. "And I stood up and- get this- Percy said, 'A Quidditch magazine? Isn't Quidditch rather a waste of time?'"

The entire table went silent.

Every single one of Oliver's teammates gaped at Percy in horror.

"Thanks a lot," Percy muttered under his breath.

"Anytime," said Oliver.

"What did you say?" Brad asked, glowering blearily over his drink.

"Ahem, well, I..." Percy swallowed.

"What did you say?" Brad asked again. He put his drink on the table with a thud.

"I was only eleven." Percy scooted closer to Oliver without realizing it.

"Was it 'Quidditch is a waste of time'?" asked Nancy.

"Um...It might have been something along those lines, yes. Anyone want anything from the bar? At all? I can go." Percy stood up.

"Anyway," said Oliver in a loud voice, tugging Percy back down, "By the time my dad found us, Percy and I were having this row in the middle of the personal growth section."

"You told me that my brain was screwed on the wrong way," said Percy, eyes narrowed.

Oliver grinned at him. "So Dad dragged me off and I didn't see Percy again until Hogwarts."

"And then you guys became friends, right?" Ellen asked.

"Well..." Oliver murmured.

"Not exactly," said Percy. He shifted. "We were in the same dormitory, but we never really-"

"We moved in different circles at school." Oliver shrugged.

"Right," said Percy. He averted his eyes to the table.

"Then how did you guys become friends?" Ellen asked. Percy could practically see the gears turning in her mind. "Oliver doesn't associate with that many non-Quidditch people."

"I do too!" protested Oliver.

"Need I remind you of Derek, your last boyfriend, who lasted two whole weeks before he was dumped because he didn't know why the 1753 Appleby Arrows were the greatest team in the history of the sport?"

"Oh yeah? Well...shut up, Ellen."

Ellen smirked, and then snapped her frightening gaze back to Percy. "So?"

"How- how did we become friends?" stammered Percy. He shot Oliver an alarmed glance. "Oh. My brothers were on the house Quidditch team with Oliver, you see," Percy said. He nodded at Oliver.

"I'm afraid I don't," Ellen replied.

Oliver focused on Percy in a way that made Percy practically squirm. "Well," said Oliver, very deliberately, "they thought that Perce and I should-"

"They- they celebrated our anniversary," Percy stammered, "And, um..."

Oliver chuckled "It was actually pretty funny. They did this thing to my bed, and Percy was-"

"Boring," Percy said. "It's a long, boring story and I'm sure you don't want to hear about all of it. Very boring." Percy trailed off with a significant cough.

"I'm sure," said Ellen.

"Don't be so embarrassed, Perce. You should go around in your boxers more often."

Percy didn't know what to say to that.

"It was too bad," Oliver sighed, his voice dropping to a timber that really made Percy squirm. "Interrupted right before I got you where I wanted to."

Or to that either.

"Heh. Boring," he said, wrenching himself straight ahead, away from the knowing, calculating look from Ellen on his right, and the far more terrifying one from Oliver on his left.

* * *

Oliver watched Percy, who was deeply, unconvincingly fascinated by whatever Brad was rambling on about, and sighed in relief. When he'd come out of the locker room before, he'd been so high on post-victory adrenaline and so happy to see Percy waiting there that he'd suddenly planted one on Percy. And despite the slight flash of "what the hell did I just do?" horror, the completely shocked expression on Percy's face had been pretty damn funny.

Anyway, things seemed back to normal now, thank Merlin. Which meant it was time. Oliver smirked.

Time to get Operation Percy Wants Me And Doesn't Know It Yet (But Not For Long) fully underway.

The set up was there- they were sitting next to each other, and most of the team too far into drunk revelry mode to notice much of anything. Step 1 of Oliver's brilliant master plan: Sit even closer to Percy.

Oliver slid over toward Percy, so their bodies were pressed together from shoulder to toe.

"So my poor mate James is completely mad for this girl. Mad," said Brad, one hand wrapped around his pint and the only pressed very seriously against the table. "And she was gorgeous, sure, but with the personality of an ice queen. Led him around by the nose for six months." Brad shook his head sadly, and knocked back the last of his beer.

"So what happened?" asked Lisa, one of the chasers.

"For some reason, against the good advice of all his mates, James decides that he's going to...propose," Brad explained with a shudder.

"Poor chap. No idea what he was getting into," said Mark sadly.

Lisa, who happened to be his girlfriend, whacked him on the shoulder. "Oi!"

"Anyway," Brad cut in, "James knows if he's going to do it, it has to be only the best for Ms. Lydia Greenleaf-Tuffington..."

Oliver shifted in his sea, so that his hip rubbed up against Percy's. Oliver almost smirked again at Percy's reaction. Was that a shiver he detected?

"...He buys a ring he can't afford and takes her to one of these four star places, you know, the kind that have a two-month waiting list?" Brad continued.

Oliver shifted again with a sigh, this time moving his arm to rest along the back of the booth.

"So, the pair of them are sitting there, poor James stuffed into a suit, and in order to get up courage, he starts ordering scotches and knocking them back. Finally, around dessert, he's ready. Shit-faced, but ready..."

Step 2: His arm dropped onto Percy's shoulder. Percy definitely started. Oliver saw Percy's head move to look at him out of the corner of his eye. Oliver played it cool, listening to Brad, ignoring the hammering of his own heartbeat and the "what the hell?" vibes radiating from Percy.

"...reaches into his pocket, pats around. The ring isn't there. James realizes that..." Brad paused for dramatic effect. "It's sitting on the kitchen counter back at his flat. He has to go back and get it..."

Step 3: Oliver right hand snaked over to rest casually on Percy's knee. Percy coughed. It definitely sounded like an 'I secretly want you, Oliver' cough. And hell, knowing Percy, the fact that he hadn't jumped up and left the pub by now was a good sign.

"...he's completely pissed at this point but he explains, stands up, waves his wand and slurs something. Guess what happened?"

Percy coughed again.

Oliver finally looked over at Percy. His mouth was a thin tense line, and he was starting to blush from the neck up. Percy was looking at Oliver with a mixture of shock and horror (and, Oliver thought, some hidden longing buried in there). "Are you okay, Perce? Have something stuck in your throat?"

Percy glared and reached down to remove Oliver's hand, but Oliver started moving it. Very. Slowly. "No I'm fine," Percy croaked.

"Splinched himself?" said Ellen.

"Did he end up in Scotland?" asked Mark.

Percy was turning steadily red now. Oliver began running his thumb up and down the side of Percy's neck.

"No. No. In fact, he was still at the table. But James looks down, and is rather startled to realize that he's standing there, completely starkers, in the middle of one of the most expensive restaurants in town." Brad let out a bark of laughter.

"You're lying, you wanker!" Nancy gaped at Brad.

"No, I'm dead serious! The ponce only apparated his clothes home!" Everyone at the table roared.

Percy shook off Oliver's hand and inched away from him. Wait- what did that mean?

"Oliver. Stop," Percy said. There was something about the tone of Percy's voice that made the blood drain from Oliver's face in a hot rush that left him feeling cold and alone even in the crowded pub.

"What?" Oliver tried to sound innocent, but the word came out quiet and confused.

"Please don't. We need to talk later." It was final, almost condescending, and it made Oliver sick to think that'd he gone and screwed up something else. So much for being able to read people.

_I just never learn, do I?_ Oliver took his hands from Percy's shoulder and knee, and put them on the table. It sounded so quiet all of a sudden. He was an ass.

"Oh. Fine. I get it." His pint was beginning to look more and more appetizing all the time.

"But-"

Oliver turned away, and, sulking, downed the rest of his pint. Fine. If he was going to fuck this up, he was going to do it good and proper.

* * *

Wait. That's not what he meant. But unless Percy wanted to have it all out in the middle of the pub (which he was not keen on at all), there was nothing to do but sit there and feel awful and watch as Oliver dramatically knocked back more beers.

Percy crossed his arms, fingers twitching. All he had to do was sit this out, go home, and then wait until a more appropriate time- when Oliver was _not_ smashed. And then they could sort this out.

_That's why you aren't saying anything. Coward._

This is a good thing, Percy told himself. Now Oliver can spend all his energy on getting drunk and none on hitting on me.

At least, that's what he'd thought. Because Percy had forgotten what a friendly drunk Oliver was, rather foolishly considering what had happened the last time he'd come face to face (and mouth to mouth) with a plastered Oliver Wood.

In what seemed like no time at all, Oliver went from angry and sulking to smashed and pretty happy indeed.

Oliver was currently flopped over the table, head propped unsteadily on his arms, giggling (almost harshly, Percy thought) at Brad and Mark, who were having a fake duel with the tiny drink umbrellas. Percy watched Oliver out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly Oliver's head swung his way. "Hey Perce?" Oliver slurred.

"What?" Percy turned from Ellen, who he'd been talking to while pretending that everything was okay. He smiled tentatively.

"I forgive you." Oliver grinned blearily. He offered Percy a tiny blue drink umbrella.

"Thanks." Percy smiled just a little. Oliver was kind of an adorable drunk.

"Issokay, Perce," Oliver told him magnanimously. "You'll come around evenshually. Islike that Muggle guy said- hope springs...something. A really long bloody time."

And there it was, right on schedule, the foot creeping up his leg.

Not again.

"Oliver," Percy groaned. He couldn't take this again.

Up and up...

Percy's shoulders stiffened. "Stop that!" he said, glancing around the pub.

And up...

"Stop what?" Oliver asked.

"You know exactly what-" Percy choked on the rest of the sentence. His hand tightened around his glass. Percy took a tight breath. Then another. He was red in the face when he finally bit out, "Oliver, stop it, I can't concentrate when you do that."

Oliver smiled in triumph and said, "Good," with the sloppy over-articulation of the truly smashed. His foot disappeared, at least.

"I will get you back for this. Later." Percy cursed the slight breathiness of his voice.

Oliver raised his eyebrows. "Promise?"

Percy scowled at him. Why couldn't Oliver wait to grope him until after they had sorted things out?? Wait- that's not what he meant exactly, but...Percy just detested not knowing where things stood between them. "That's not fair," he finally said, surprising himself.

Oliver tilted his head. "Why?"

"Because...because!" Percy hissed, looking around again to see if anyone was paying attention. "You're not supposed to be drunk, and you're definitely not supposed to be hitting on me. We need to talk about this!" He really didn't want to make a scene here.

"I can think of a better way to spend some time." Oliver leered.

"That's just what I mean," Percy said, furiously pointing at him.

"Great Godric's Ghost, WOULD YOU TWO JUST SHAG ALREADY?!?!?" bellowed Nancy.

Percy's head whipped around to find the entire table staring at them. After a moment of horrified silence, Lisa began giggling very hard into her drink. Ellen said, "Nancy!"

Nancy said, "What? Hey Oliver, if you don't want him, I'd be happy to-" At which point she was kicked very hard under the table. The other members of the table (along with plenty of strangers in the pub) were still ogling the pair of them.

Percy had never been more embarrassed in his life.

"Fine!" Oliver stood up, glaring daggers at Nancy. "We will! Come on, Percy, let's go shag," he slurred, holding out his hand to Percy.

Correction. _Now_ he never been more embarrassed in his life. "Oliver!" Percy hissed.

"Percy, come on! You know you want to. I'm dead sexy."

Percy's faced flamed. "You're drunk, Oliver." Stop this and shut up please please please...

"So what? What? Are you afraid I'm going to snog you again?"

"That's not it-"

"You didn't like it before? I can do better. _Let's practice._"

Percy stood up so quickly the glasses rattled on the table. "Will you excuse us?" he said with a fake smile, pushing Oliver away from the booth as calmly as he was able.

"Are we going to go shag?" Oliver asked.

"No!" Percy yanked Oliver out of the pub, ears burning, back ramrod straight.

"But- but I'm irresistible," Oliver whined.

"Says who?" Percy muttered.

"Me." Oliver stumbled out of the pub and almost knocked Percy over. Percy grabbed him and tried to keep them both from tumbling to the ground. When he had, Percy found that Oliver's face was about an inch from his own.

"Percy?"

"Mm?"

Oliver was looking Percy straight in the eyes, in that way no one else did. "You really don't want me, do you?" he said plaintively.

Percy felt like he'd been punched in the stomach. Oh, Oliver was good. Damn good. Bastard. "Oliver, I- look, we are not going to have this conversation now." Percy stood up and grabbed Oliver's arm to haul him down the street.

Oliver didn't budge. His eyes were wide. "No- you do," he said quietly, with more than just the usual conviction of the plastered. A grin flitted across his face.

Great. The evening just got better and better. "Oliver-"

"You do." Oliver let out a bark of laughter. "You do, you do, you do."

"We're not talking about this now," Percy repeated. He dragged Oliver forward, staring at the sidewalk.

Oliver halted. "Why not?" Oliver now sounded like a five year old.

"Because you're so pissed you can hardly stand up," Percy snapped. "I'm taking you home." He grabbed Oliver's hand and pulled him along.

Oliver grinned. "Are we going there to shag?"

"No." Good God, Oliver had a one track mind. At least he seemed to have forgotten about-

"Why?"

"Because." Percy gritted his teeth and steered Oliver around a corner.

"Because why?"

"_Because._"

"That's not-"

"Oliver." Percy stopped, placed both his hands on Oliver's shoulders and said, very deliberately, "Let me explain something to you. No one is going to be, er, shagging anyone tonight. I'm going to take you home. You are going to go to bed. _Alone._" Percy added when Oliver opened his mouth again. "We will talk about this later."

Percy searched Oliver's face for some sign that he understood. Was there even the slightest, tiniest possibility that Oliver was actually going to cooperate so Percy could go home and hex himself out of his misery?

"Shagging," Oliver giggled. "You can't even say it with out turning red."

"Oliver. I'm not even going to respond to that." He turned and resumed steering Oliver toward his flat.

"Shag, Percy. Say it with me: shaaaagging," said Oliver, in a voice that was far too loud. "Also known as sex. Making love, if you want to be girly about it. Sexual intercourse..."

Someone up there must really hate him. That was the only explanation for this.

"...Boffing. The beast with two backs. Getting your oats. Doing the Hippity Dipp...Dippty- I like that one-"

"Oliver !" For the second time that evening, Percy halted on the sidewalk to give Oliver a withering glare (somewhat diminished by the fact that he was indeed blushing).

"There's no reason to get so embarrassed," Oliver said.

Percy crossed his arms. "I'm not embarrassed." He sniffed.

Oliver slung an arm over Percy's shoulder. "It's all just a natural part of life, Perce..."

"Oliver." This was torturous.

"...you see, Perce, when two people love each other very much..."

Percy shrugged off the dangerously warm weight of Oliver's arm. "Oliver, I already had the facts of life talk ages ago." Percy could feel the flush creeping up his face.

Oliver talked louder "...and if you don't have a partner, you know, you can always-"

"Oliver!" Percy hissed.

"See? Uptight."

Percy's hands clenched. "Look I didn't want to have to do this," he said importantly, reaching for his wand. "But if I don't, I think I'm going to murder you before we reach your flat."

Oliver looked worried. "Perce?"

"_Sobrietus_," said Percy, neatly flicking his wrist.

* * *

Oliver's eyes snapped into clarity just as his mind did.

He lurched forward with a surprised grunt. Having all the alcohol instantly removed from one's system tended to throw a person's balance.

"Careful." Percy guided him to sit down on a nearby bench.

Oliver plunked down and dropped his head to his hands. "Ow. What'd you do that for?" Oliver groaned.

There was a pause. "It was the only way I could think of to get you to shut up." Percy voice had turned hollow.

Oliver sat on the bench and didn't say anything. The events of the evening were returning painfully clear to his head.

Sure, he'd made a royal ass of himself- what else was new? - but that wasn't the important part. Oh no.

Some things sound like great ideas when you're drunk and turn out to be not-so-great in the light of day. (That time Oliver had been convinced to do a strip tease for the customers at Begley's Pub, to name one.)

But even though it had hit him while smashed, Oliver knew that it was true. He knew deep down at the very bottom of everything that he'd been right all along: Percy did want him.

Percy wanted him. He'd turned the thought over in his head. Again. And again, until it picked up speed and went spinning and crashing around in his head like a joyfully out-of-control broom.

Percy wanted him. (Of course he did. Had there ever been any doubt?)

Oliver could feel a dopey grin spreading back over his face. Mental victory dance.

"What?" Percy asked.

"Oh, nothing, Perce." Oliver leaned back on the bench and took a deep cleansing breath. "It's just- it's a beautiful night, isn't it?" he said. He couldn't get that stupid smile off his face and he didn't want to.

"I suppose," said Percy. He still sounded weird.

"I'm feeling better. Let's go." Oliver stood up. They made an odd pair walking down the street. Percy walked with awkward yet quick steps, as though he couldn't get back to Oliver's flat soon enough. Oliver, on the other hand, was practically bouncing along.

Percy wanted him. Ha!

He would have to do something about this. Soon. Very very soon. But how to go about it? Mentally Oliver stroked his chin. Oliver stole a sly sidelong glance at Percy, who seemed very serious for some reason.

An operation of this sort required finesse and strategy...

He could wait until they got back up to his flat and snog Percy.

Huh. Oliver liked that idea.

Then again, maybe he only needed to wait until they got to the steps of his building. You know, to get it over with as soon as possible. Efficiency: it was a good thing, or something like that.

Then again, maybe he only _needed_ to wait until they got on his street.

Or to that corner right up there.

Or hell, right now. Oliver _really _liked that idea.

"Oliver?"

Percy voice came abruptly, just as Oliver was ready to spring into action. Oliver tripped over himself and almost ate the pavement.

He righted his steps sheepishly. "The sidewalk was crooked." Oliver said. The light from a streetlamp was doing strange things to Percy's hair. "Er...What is it?"

* * *

Percy's jaw and shoulders set with purpose. His eyes squarely met Oliver's. Fine. _Fine._ He was going to say this. He was sick and tired of being afraid to, anyway.

"There is something we need to address," Percy said.

"Address? Okay then," Oliver replied, smiling at something.

"About what you said before..."

"The shagging?" Oliver offered. He rocked back and forth on his heels.

Percy coughed. "No. About what you said about me," Percy prompted. _Please, Oliver, you know perfectly well what I'm talking about._

"You being uptight?" Oliver blinked, looking completely clueless.

Percy was beginning to get frustrated. "_No_," he said. "About me wanting you."

"What about it?" Oliver asked with a blithe smile.

Percy shot Oliver an "I'll get you for this later" look and soldiered on. "You weren't wrong. About me."

"Really?" Oliver asked, obviously trying to look serious. He failed.

Percy glared again and took a deep breath. "I know it might not have seemed like it, after what happened back in my flat earlier this week- I apologize for that, by the by- but I'm not entirely sure that you feel the same way- I know what you said earlier, but you were rather drunk and all, and even though _in vino veritas_ and what have you, you never really know, do you?" Percy laughed weakly.

"In vino veritas?" Oliver asked.

Percy was clearly determined to rattle on. "But even if you don't, it's only proper that-"

"In vino veritas, Perce?"

Percy shut his mouth with an angry huff. "It's Latin," he ground out. "It can be translated as 'There is truth in wine.'"

"I can't believe you used Latin in a normal conversation."

"There's nothing wrong with knowing Latin," said Percy, offended. "Most modern spell incantations derive from Latin. You know I took a seminar on the history of linguistics and spellwork my last year at school. It was-" Percy stopped and shook his head, glaring at Oliver. "I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't distract me, Oliver. As I was saying-"

"You're the only person I know who would do that." Oliver said fondly. "Right. Sorry," he added, when Percy angrily cleared his throat.

Percy took another nervous breath "There's more, Oliver. You see, for me, at any rate, there's more to this whole thing, whatever it is, than just the...physical aspect of- "

"Latin." Oliver chuckled.

Percy was starting to get annoyed. "Anyway-"

"It's just funny." Oliver tried to stifle a grin again.

"I'm sure it is," Percy snapped. "_Anyway_," Percy continued firmly, staring at his feet, "you also have the right to know that I...my feelings are such- God, this sounded so much better in my head-"

"Hee."

Percy's head whipped up angrily. "Do you mind?? I'm trying to tell you that I love you if you would just shut up for five seconds you irritating prat!!" he yelled loudly.

They stared at each other in the thick silence of the evening. _At least he finally shut up,_ thought Percy weakly. Oliver kept staring at him. It was out there. And Oliver wasn't. Saying. Anything.

Whoever had claimed that the truth would set you free was horribly, damnably wrong. Percy pressed his lips together. He could not recall a time when he'd felt more exposed, more _naked_, than under the silence of Oliver's shocked, blinking gaze. And the ridiculous part of the whole thing was that even though he wanted to bid Oliver good night and save a little bit of his dignity, there was something else he wanted more. Something he'd wanted for a long time.

On another note, why wasn't Oliver saying anything?

"There you have it then. Can't take it back now, can I?" Percy muttered. "And you needn't feel obligated to requite my feelings or anything. Just thought you should know. But if you don't...of course, I understand."

He risked a glance at Oliver, whose mouth was open and whose damn hair was trying (and failing) to flop over his forehead. For the first time in his life, Percy thought he understood the meaning of the phrase 'nothing to lose'. "But before I go...would you mind...oh, hang it."

Percy darted forward and kissed Oliver. Quickly, before Percy had the chance to really see what he'd been missing. The brief taste was bad enough, though.

He'd barely pulled back more than a few centimeters when Oliver finally spoke.

* * *

"Percy." Oliver's voice came out low; he noted with satisfaction the tiny hitch in Percy's shoulders. Excellent.

Percy's eyes were still locked on Oliver's as he took a step back. "Hmm?"

"Come here." Oliver took a step forward.

Percy stepped back, until he bumped up against a streetlamp, one of the old-fashioned glass kind filled with lightning bugs. The light did the strangest things to Percy's hair. Percy stopped backing up and watched him.

Oliver moved forward again, slowly, taking in every detail of Percy's freckles, and his lower lip and his eyes, which closed under the close, intense scrutiny.

The kiss was nothing special to begin with.Percy barely moved at all; his arms flailed uselessly for a moment before his fists clenched halfway to his sides. Oliver could feel Percy's shoulders hunch, trembling from the effort of holding himself back.

Oliver really had no choice but slip into Percy's robes and run his hands down Percy's sensitive hips at the same moment he suckled Percy's lower lip.

Oliver could feel the instant Percy finally let go, heralded by a soft helpless moan that Oliver could almost taste. And when Percy opened that mouth of his, Oliver barely had time for the fleeting thought of "Attaboy, Perce. Knew you had it in you" before Percy moved and Oliver somehow found himself with _his_ back against the streetlamp. Oliver's eyes flickered open and shut in surprise. And then Percy's hands were running into his hair and Percy's tongue-

Where. The hell. Had Percy learned to do that?

His lungs burned when Percy finally pulled off and tucked his head next to Oliver's with a deep, shuddering breath. Oliver gaped, and sagged against the streetlamp, his arms around Percy's waist. He felt Percy breathe.

"You've been holding out on me, Perce," he managed.

Percy just shrugged in his arms, as if snogging people senseless was something he did everyday. It was quiet.

"Hey, Perce."

Percy slowly pulled his head back. Holy hell. The emotion leaking all over his face...no one had ever _ever_ looked at him like that. "Me too," Oliver said. It was all he could get out.

Percy stared. Dammit, that wasn't what he'd meant to say at all.

Percy seemed to understand, though, because a second later they were back to making out against the streetlamp.

Oliver's brain skittered to a stop at that point, thanks to Percy's damn tongue. When they stopped, it was all Oliver could do to lean weakly against the streetlamp. It was going to take a while to get used to this new, improved, "now with free snogging!" version of Percy.

Oliver was still blinking in silence as Percy straightened his robes with the appearance of calm, though there was just light enough to see that he was blushing.

Percy looked at Oliver and didn't say anything for a bit. "'Me too?'" Percy made a face. He shook his head, tucked in a smile, and took a step down the street.

Bastard.

What the hell had just happened?

"Hey!" Oliver pushed himself off the streetlamp and jogged after him. "Yours wasn't much better." Oliver said when he'd caught up.

Percy snorted. "Yes it was."

Oliver snorted back. "Wasn't."

"Yes. It was." Percy finally slowed to a stop in front of Oliver's building.

"I hate to break it to you, Perce, but just because yours had _Latin_ in it only means you're a dork." Oliver spelled the door and held it open for Percy.

Percy went through. "It was important. And besides, you kept interrupting me!" Percy exclaimed, climbing the steps.

"I was happy! I couldn't help it!" Oliver followed him. He took the stairs two at a time.

"Antiquis temporibus, nati tibi similes in rupibus ventosissimis exponebantur ad necem," Percy said in a tone of fond exasperation.

"What did you say?" Oliver asked the back of Percy's head.

Percy put a foot on the last stair and pivoted around to face Oliver. He graced Oliver with that smirking I-know-something-you-don't-know look. "Nothing."

"I'll bet," Oliver said, climbing the last of the steps with a suspicious glare. Percy leaned against the wall, crossed his arms and smirked, and then they both stood still and just mooned at each other like a pair of idiots.

Oliver put a hand against the door to his flat.

"So," said Percy, casually staring at the floor. "Is your flatmate in?"

Oliver reached for his wand to _alohamora _the door. "He might not be. Why? Oh."

Ha, Oliver thought.

Percy's Latin phrase actually means "In the good old days, children like you were left to perish on windswept crags."

A/N: Well that's it, guys. There should be a short epilogue on its way soon (I hope). After all, Percy and Oliver deserve to get some revenge on Fred and George...

Don't they? ;)

Thanks for reading!


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